I had fried chicken for lunch at work yesterday. Fried chicken and potato salad. It was a pretty good day … and a very good lunch. Unfortunately my fried chicken lead to one of the most frustrating conversations I have every now and then. Yes, it’s happened more than once. And, yes, each time is equally frustrating.
Here’s what you need to know: I’m fat. Overweight. Whatever word makes you feel comfortable to describe a person who carries more weight on their body than is medically considered healthy. For me, I like to keep it short and sweet. I’m fat.
I’m fully aware of it.
I’m also fully okay with it.
My train of thought on my fatness is fairly simple (at least to me). I am fat by medical standards. I know it’s not healthy. I know at some point I will need to drop a few pounds in order to be healthier. However I like myself, the real me … my attitude on life, the person I have become, me, myself, and I.
I’ve worked very hard on that part, learning and unlearning what the world told me to be or do. I’ve come to a place of acceptance and “self-love” with the part of me that is, to me, the most important.
I have also come to a beautiful place of acceptance of the least important (to me) part of me which is the outside. It isn’t healthy. It does need some work, but it is what is right now, in this moment, today and for now. I don’t celebrate my “tiger stripes” as some call their stretch marks. I don’t loudly proclaim that “my body has birthed babies!” For me that feels like justifying my body’s existence, and these days that just seems exhausting. And since I don’t need to justify me to me, that justification becomes something I do for someone else, and honestly I just don’t have time for that. I was busy eating my beloved fried chicken after all.
The conversation went something like this.
M=me. WMP=well-meaning person.
WMP: Ooo! That looks good! Where’d you go for lunch?
M: Safeway. They have delicious fried chicken.
WMP: It smells amazing.
M (satisfied grunt): It is.
Other person: And here I am eating raw veggies. (unsatisfied grunt)
M: And that’s why you look like you do, and I look like I do. (laughs)
WMP: You’re not big!
M: Of course, I am.
WMP: No, you’re not! You look great! (because the two are mutually exclusive?)
M: Thanks, but I’m fat. It’s ok. I’m also happy.
WMP: No! You’re not fat!!!
M: Ummm, yes I am. I’m 40 pounds overweight by any medical standard.
WMP: But you look so healthy. You look great. (insert every lame thing you could say here to “make me feel better”)
M: No, I’m fat, but I’m okay with it. *shrugs* I’m good.
The WMP continued to try to “boost” my self-esteem for a few sentences I immediately forgot.
M: Look, you don’t have to call me fat if it makes you uncomfortable. That’s okay, but I know who I am, inside and out, and I’m okay with all of it.
(I should have added “full stop” to the comment. Maybe it would have stopped. Maybe not.)
WMP mumbled a bit more about “looking good” and “being a beautiful woman.” Ugh.
I finished my lunch, all of it I might add, and went about my day, but the conversation rolled around in my head all afternoon and all evening, and clearly I woke up thinking about it this morning.
Here’s the thing. I know that the world thinks I should feel bad about being fat. I just don’t. I have in the past. I have criticized myself in the mirror. I have made fat jokes about myself because if-I-make-them-first-they-hurt-less. I have cried over not finding cute jeans. Luckily that was then, and this is now, and today I’m simply okay with me.
I think it’s what the kids call “body positivity.” I don’t (usually) make loud proclamations about it. I don’t have an Insta filled with photos of me to prove I am proud of my large self. In fact I am not proud of my large body. I am also not ashamed of it. It just is what it is.
I am proud of my positive attitude. I am proud that I am a pretty good wife and mom. I am proud of the work I do with Girl Scouts. I am proud of being a good friend. I am proud of that fact that as I say my prayers each night I have far more to give thanks for than anything else.
Those things are who I am. My fat body is just the shell I keep all those things inside. It is far easier to change than the inside part, trust me, so when I’m ready and have the desire I will change the outside, too. For now, my shell, my fat, is okay by me.
I wish I had a great way to end this story. I wish I had a call to arms or moving statement of acceptance. I just don’t. Because this post is about me and my feelings and my fat. You will have to deal with yourself, inside and out, the best way that you can and come to whatever self-acceptance works for you.
If that means going Keto, go Keto. If that means eating raw veggies and going to the gym every day, well do that. If it means gathering your courage and going viral with an Insta-moment, go viral! Do what works for you.
But for me, in my quiet little life and my quiet little world, I will just be okay with who I am and with the fat-shell that I carry me around in. I will continue to work on the important stuff inside and then someday work that less important part into the schedule. Today I will continue to be Simply Jodi.
Ahem.
Full stop.
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