Ten things I’ve done to reclaim my body. This includes life changes, perception changes, and just…good old loving.
1) reclaimed the word ‘fat’. It’s not an insult. It’s a descriptive term. When I was on tinder, my profile said ‘yes, I’m fat. Get over it.’ That allowed me to reposition myself wrt my equations with people, especially men.
2) stopped trying to hide. I still wear loose clothes, but that’s because I have overly sensitive skin and even cotton chafes at me. I have rolls, my skin sags in places because of weight loss. Sue me.
3) cut out sugar from my diet for most part. I’m less sleepy, less cranky, and my overall productiveness is better.
4) got my blood work done. Turns out, contrary to popular belief, fat people can have non-fat related problems! My body is anemic. Slowly getting that back on track.
5) I refused to hide my being. I’m a public person. I’m building a brand. I perform. Sometimes, I’m getting on stage and realise I’ll look huge from the angle I’m at, but I’ll take a deep breath and get on with it.
6) letting people love me. I’ve been in fulfilling relationships of many varieties, I’ve undone years and years of conditioning to understand that someone else can find my attractive, desirable, and special. They can. They do. They will. I’m not an aromantic being because of my body.
7) eating well. Years and years of crash dieting and hating myself later, now I eat what I want to. Sure, not fat and cream laden foods (lost a taste for them along the way), but I eat vibrant, tasty foods from around the world, and I love doing so. Food is joyous. It’s sustenance, it’s art. No one gets to take that away from me.
8) standing up to fat shaming. There’s a trend of coercing fat people into hating themselves so that they lose weight, and it’s done with the sole altruistic motive of ‘helping’ them. No. If I lose weight, it’s because I love my body enough to change it. Not because I was bullied into hating it.
9) calling my parents out. I’ve had long, screaming matches with my parents about how they messed up their parenting. It served a few purposes. Catharsis. It made dealing with a traumatic childhood easier. It erased the victim-aggresor mentality I was working with. When you’re 8 and given sprouts for lunch, it’s very easy to hate your parents. Understanding that they were as impacted as I was is important to feel less helpless. I also hope it’ll eventually make me a better parent, getting these insights. They’re painful, uncomfortable, and exhausting. But call your parents/guardians out.
10) smiling. I smile. A lot. I’m trying to let go of anger. Of pain. Of trauma. It’s not a linear process. I’m fumbling around. But God, do I smile.
I’m learning not to hate myself. Slowly, I’ll learn how to love myself too. Some day.
