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
