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At 2 am on January 5, 2014, I had a revelation
Just trying to sleep but thinking about what I said earlier about how I’m surprised I have never had an eating disorder and it has finally clicked to me why: the thought of losing a lot of weight really kinda scares me. I have nothing against skinny girls mind you- that’s beyond petty and immature and I hope nothing I say offends anybody of any body type for that matter- but I couldn’t even imagine myself- chubby since birth, never able to share clothes with friends, largest girl on the cheer team, forever “almost pushing it” Becca- being model thin.
I read this book in elementary school called Perfect by Natasha Friend about this middle school girl who had anorexia and bulimia. Call me crazy but after that book I like wanted an eating disorder- not only because I wasn’t satisfied with my body but I think because I wanted to see what the fucking hype about being skinny was- would purging or starving myself answer all of the questions and fill all of the holes from my childhood that to this day I cannot figure out? Girls were hurting themselves to achieve skinny so it must be the answer. So I went through short but frequent little phases “trying to be anorexic” and got into fitness in middle school- failed because I loved food and hated sweating- then actually went through a family situation which managed to steal my appetite and made me lose weight uncontrollably the summer before 8th grade so I was scared shitless to keep trying. Then in 10th grade I found out one of my best friends had bulimia which realized the whole ED romance yet again- I remember talking to her about it and being in awe and even jealous of her ability to ignore how wrong it was. It wasn’t until I stuck my own fingers down my throat and felt the one thankfully dry heave that solved absolutely nothing that my crush on an ED finally faded.
Now, the thought of not being able to jiggle my thighs in my hands or pinch my flabby stomach or squeeze my boobs or grab my ass or poke the skin under my neck and arms like I always have is terrifying. I used to do those things in disgust, after seeing how unhappy my friends, skinnier than me, were with theirs, but now that I think about it I love the feel of my flesh in my hands, like squishing a temperpedic pillow or something.
Losing weight would technically increase the amount of space that surrounds me, right, and I feel like I’d literally crumble under the weight of that extra air. Like literally there is more of the weight of the world on your shoulders if you’re less than you already are and that’s terrifying to me. Having a big body, I have learned in my 18 years of ownership, makes me feel safe and powerful and independent and in control.
I think that the pressure from society and the unhappiness of my friends telling me that I should want to be skinny and that being beautiful and happy and fat was not possible stifled the truth in my head which is that I love my fat body. Like I am honestly have so much fat and am so thick and massive and I can finally admit that I love it- every roll and crease and curve.
I always get the compliment “You give really good hugs!” and I used to not really get offended but think “Welp, it’s because I’m fat.” As if being told you give good hugs could ever be a bad thing- who the heck doesn’t need a good hug every now and then and I should have always been grateful that people can get whatever satisfaction and reassurance that hugs provide that they need because of my body. How wonderful it is to be blessed with a body that can do that for somebody.
BE BRAVE! JOIN THE BODY PEACE REVOLUTION!
http://stophatingyourbody.tumblr.com/
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- Submitted by nappygems95.tumblr.com