I Want To Talk About Being Fat

I am Overweight. Nearingthe obesity line. Etc. I want to say I’m terrified of being fat. Everything about it scares me. Every time I fit into a size medium, my heart flutters. I hate that most things I wear are now double XLs. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it.

When I’m not wearing clothes, funnily enough, I actually tend to not mind my body, I might even like it, but in the back of my mind, I know it’s not right. I know it should be smaller. This week, were in quarantine, and what better thing to do then fall into the YouTube rabbit hole? I found the “fat acceptance movement” and also those who oppose it. I’ve been watching both sides videos obsessively.

In addition to doing that, this past month, month and a half, I’ve lost around ten pounds. I’ve been working my butt off for every one of them. Walking or trying to exercise, spending every dollar I make on things like celery, and just generally, doing my best. In this movement, they talk about fatphobia a lot. The concept that our society is afraid of fat people, or rather discriminatory toward them. Not big enough airplane seats, not big enough seat belts, no roller coasters for you, etc.

I’m not afraid of fat people, but I’m terrified of being a fat person. Some may say that’s sad or insulting. But it’s not, at least to me. What I’ve realized over the last month, in my very short attempt at being healthier, is that I genuinely feel better. I feel proud of the meals I make; I feel proud of every cup of water I drink; I feel proud of the snacks I pack and my meal packing and even my dang new Tupperware. The idea that I could go back to eating fast food all the time, eating two or three dinners in addition to my daily meals, to being someone that could easily eat at least half the bag of popcorn at the movie, by herself, is terrifying. I don’t want to be that person. Not because there’s something wrong with fat people, but because now that I’ve been living even slightly differently, for even this tiny amount of time, I’m remembering what it used to feel like to be alive and be healthy.

I used to swim every day for two plus hours. I used to get personal weight training twice a week and swim four hours a week in the winter. I used to be able to run- okay, maybe I could never run. But I at least used to be able to try to run. And the thing is I LOVED it. Every minute. I loved it. And now I go to work out and I dread it, and I know that all that’s changed is my body. It got harder and harder to do and something that was easy became unenjoyable. I want it to be enjoyable again.

It’s little things, a sports bra fitting with some room, my motorcycle helmet fitting comfortably, my dad saying I look thinner. Just one of these things makes my whole day. The fear of being fat is not a bad thing for me, it’s a driving force to help me to get healthy. It’s whats stopping me from going and getting ice cream right now, or making mac and cheese even though I’ve already had dinner. I’m not hungry. I just want those things. I am depriving myself, which, a lot of people say is a bad thing. I’ll be honest, my body is telling me it’s a bad thing. It’s a battle of wills, my head is saying its only seven thirty, the ice cream shop closes at eight. I could still make it. I could go on a walk afterwards and work it off, I could, I could, I could- but I have to say no. No Ice cream, or I’ll go right back to where I started.

To be clear, where I started was not a bad place. I don’t regret the choices I made to get to that weight. I’m just over it. It’s time to make new choices, to drink lemon water instead of Dr. Pepper, to buy a jump rope so I can jump rope in front of the TV instead of just laying there eating chips. And I wanted to talk about it, because every time I tell people about what I’m doing, it makes my passion for it just a little bit stronger, and I need every ounce of mental strength I can get.