If You’re Looking For a Fat Girl

If You’re Looking For a Fat Girl

if you’re looking

for a FAT girl

in a plain black

cardigan jumper w/

rhinestone buttons

you will not find her

yet she is everywhere

her imperfect nature

her thudding toddle

her full figured face

her weighty self-loathing

her invisible incidence

beclouds

her luminous whole

to the bone

in the bread

on the moon

if you’re looking

for a FAT girl

ten feet towering

brazen, wise-mouthed

& deeply aggrieved

you will not find her

yet she is everywhere else

her blemished build

her imposing disposition

her long fingers & wide palms

her invented composure

her inescapable immediacy

surpresses

her incandescent spirit

if you’re looking

for a FAT girl

look at me

look at her

look at us 

**

Here’s a truth: loving yourself is the greatest revolution. For so long, a large portion (pun intended) of my female life, I have measured my worth in pounds and inches, logged calories, fat grams, weighed portions, chewed slower, ate less on smaller plates, drank more water, buckling under the burden to be thinner. AND if I was thinner, I’d be prettier, possibly popular, people would buy me new clothes if I just lost some weight etc etc etc. The pressure, the pressure, the pressure! I was always the fat kid. That kid is still in there somewhere, serving her portly little mouth the last cookie from the jar to soothe hurt feelings, sate loneliness, and quench a craving because she doesn’t know any better, because, frankly, she just can’t help herself, she doesn’t understand. I do, but she still doesn’t.

I learned a valuable lesson a few years ago:  beauty is NOT a size. Confidence is your best accessory, your supreme power. You could be a size 2 or 22, confidence is everything. Short, tall, round, lean, young, old muscular, plain … it matters not, confidence is king. What matters is who you are, not what you look like. Let’s face it, girls did not just decide one day to hate their thighs or stomach, legs or double-chins: it is learned behaviour, taught by the societal mouthpieces demanding an impossible standard for women and for men. My standard of beauty was severely skewed as a young girl: magazines, movies, music videos: all of the things I saw in every medium were not what I saw in the mirror, far from it. It wasn’t until I was a grown woman that I realized, my entire life; I’ve been beating myself up for my undesired body shape, its size.  Eating was/is emotional for me. I was a lonely child, surrounded by adults who didn’t think anything of feeding me to keep me happy or quiet or use food as a substitute for quality time spent. Food was my friend I just didn’t understand why my clothes hated me so much. That is a fucking hurtle, one I still strive to overcome. Believe me.

I recognize that after doing a great deal of work on myself: changing my perspective, my attitude, eating better and exercising regularly – that it honestly didn’t matter how big or small I was. I was pretty okay; in fact I was fabulous! Miraculous things began to happen to my spirit when put a positive focus on myself and paid less attention to what others looked like. Instead of berating myself for my round shoulders or my stomach, I concentrated on the things I liked about my body, that no one is perfect and most importantly: I didn’t need any kind of validation from others to feel good about myself and how imperative it is to surround yourself with supportive, like-minded and optimistic individuals. It is a complete overhaul of your perception of self and the world. It’s a revelation to love you.

I admit, I lost my footing and felt those old familiar pangs of shame directed at my body and choices, notably when I recently had to disrobe for a mammogram. Food still is a crutch for me. Sadness is a slower-downer for me. I’ve had a rough go and I am just starting again to kick my own ass back into the positives. Having said that, I still think I am awesome. I just need more apples, longer walks and deeper breaths.

If you’re reading this, you are beautiful. Just as you are. Embrace it.

In propinquity,

Nic