You Are Not Defined By A Number On A Scale

I’m fat. I pretty much always have been. There have been maybe one or two times in my life that I’ve slimmed down, but it never lasts. I always manage to balloon back up to fatty status. I’m not putting myself down or anything. The fact is, I’m fat. I am 5’0” and weigh 200 lbs. That is 40 lbs per foot! Yep. I’m tubby.

Humor has always been my ‘go to’ when I feel like someone is judging my fatness. I say things like “I could be thin and toned, but I love cake too much.” Inevitably I get a laugh and hopefully come across as someone with a good sense of humor about her obvious chub. Hell, I earned it. Didn’t really mean to…but here it is. I didn’t really do anything to prevent it either. I know that exercise is something I should do, but I nap instead. Naps are wonderful. Naps are a large part of why I have such large parts. Heh.

I don’t think I’m unattractive. I have pretty blue eyes, nice teeth and an adorable button nose. I don’t spend every day obsessing about my looks. More often than not I wear a funny t-shirt some capris and my shoes that have a space design on them. Fashion is not my forte and never has been. One of my best friends took me shopping once and I got a whole new wardrobe. I don’t wear any of it. I think he may kick me next time we hang out and I’m wearing my “I’m Not Frank Morgan” shirt. Ha…he still loves me though. He has come to accept I’m not ever gonna be a ‘lady’.

What the hell does that mean anyway? “To be a lady.” Should I carry books on my head to correct my posture and make sure my legs are crossed appropriately whilst wearing a skirt? I don’t get it. I’m not against it. Hell, if you want to wear pearls and cook dinner for hubs when he gets home after a hard day – go for it, I say! But if you also want to heat up a Hot Pocket and watch “Storage Wars”, that is fine with me too. (Barry is my favorite).

I guess at the age of 32 I have finally come to accept “Me.” I spent a lot of my life trying to fit into the molds other people wanted for me. Whether it was through church, social groups or amongst co-workers, I have always desired to be ‘liked’. I want people to like me. One of the biggest realizations I have had over the past few years is that in order to be liked, I have to first like myself. That sounds like such a simple concept, doesn’t it? But, it isn’t. I have to work at it every day.

As I am writing this I am having what I would consider to be a ‘fat day.’ I don’t really like some things about myself today. The things I have chosen to dislike today are different than the ones that bothered me yesterday. Basically there is ALWAYS going to be something about myself that I find less than desirable. I am not blaming magazines or Hollywood. There is no one to blame. It just is.

I say all of this to sum up this point: You only get one YOU! There will never be another me. There will never be another chubby, pale white girl from Ohio with an unhealthy obsession with Pink (I love her) and cheese. On this earth will never walk another 5’0” 200 lb girl with the same DNA as me. I don’t love all my quirks. I wish I could want to get up and run and exercise. It doesn’t appeal to me, but that doesn’t mean I can’t work on it. At 32, I have to remind myself that there is only one me…and that is more than sufficient.