Friday, April 4, 2008
I am fat. No, really. I am fat. Morbidly obese is the medical term. I prefer fat. I have a fat ass, fat upper arms, a fat belly, fat hips, fat thighs and a fat face. I have stretch marks and I have cellulite. I also have a body that enables me to do the things I want to do. It has conceived, carried and borne two healthy children. It houses my brilliant mind and gives me means to express my thoughts and creativity. It lets me make love to my partner and to enjoy it. I like who I am. I like where I am in my life. I would rather be fat than stressing about dieting and losing weight. I can spend that time writing and creating and being. My body has got me where I am today and while I haven't always been on BFF terms with her, I think she is pretty cool. That is why I decorate her with ink and other expressions of love. I refuse to be ashamed of her. Why should I? My children love snuggling up to me because I am soft and squashy. My partner doesn't find skinny women attractive. I look like my mother did and I don't see that as a bad thing. Maybe I am in denial like all the fat haters say I am. But hey, it sure is more fun here than at Weight Watchers.
Posted by The Body Image Project