On being a “fatty”

I have found that being skinny doesn’t always make you happy.  Being a fatty doesn’t always either.  There is a moderation that comes to your mind…it’s called “mindfulness”…a moderation that is purely mental.  It’s a state you encounter or live with where you realize you want the world to see you for your inner beauty, your soul, that radiates and permeates every soul you encounter.  

I used to have low self-esteem.  But I have found my esteem being fat regardless.  Isn’t that odd?  It stems from self-worth.  Am I not worthy because I can’t fit into my size 6 petite dresses and jeans anymore?  No.  Fat offers me some protection from shallow men who would rather see me fittheir perfect image of what I should look like in their eyes.  Honestly it freaks me out.

I’ve decided that if I choose to lose weight, I want it to be for my health and self-love rather than to attract some male and make him want me.  It’s so discouraging to see women suffering, garnishing eating disorders and airbrushing, to fit into a society that dictates women should look like barbies or Disney princesses.  How many women are told, “it’s okay…I’d rather you look like a care bear?”  No, it’s 27 inch waists.  Boob jobs and the perfect ass.  

The funny or not so funny thing about it is I have a double standard for men.  I’m not into heavy guys, short guys, guys with no hair.  I guess I’m an asshole then.  Or a hypocrite.  But that’s okay.   We all have our preferences.  Whether it’s hard wired into our DNA, or socially constructed, I accept it.  

I suppose I should  accept the fact that I’m not perfect and I’m only human.  And accept the fact that most people are the same.


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