I have fat on my abdomen.
Fleshy fat that is thick and hard to get rid of. I understand the daily struggle that obese individuals go through and I will not pretend to know how that feels. However, I can discuss the absolute disgust I feel when I stand naked and look into a mirror. Instead of celebrating my breasts or my freckles or my thighs, I just stare at the tube of fat that surrounds my middle.
I have tried dieting. I'm a pescetarian . I eat fairly well on a day to day basis. I don't eat fast food or drink soda. I do drink wine and eat tacos. I call that humaning and we all have to human, in moderation.
I exercise. Some weeks, I have a rhythm of consistency. Some weeks, I do ten sit ups after drinking two glasses of Malbec and call it a day. I mean, last week I barely made time to shave my legs, let alone spend five hours in work out classes. I love running. I love being healthy and I know how to make it a priority. YOU will never get the last thing on your to-do list done. I know this and yet, today, I can't say to you that I'm on a regular workout schedule. That is the reality of my now.
SO, that is why this fat sticks to me. IT goes with me to the Sandlot where I bartend five nights a week. It comes with me to the coffee shops, where I write and plan for the school year. It accompanies as I meet the new teachers from my school, as I try to set them up for success for the school year.
My fat lives with me. It haunts me. It hugs me. My fat is a constant reminder of what I consider to be failures. What people want to hear is that attitude of love yourself no matter what. I do, I do love myself but at the same time, sometimes my stomach pushes against my fat and I have to run to the bathroom to cry because for so many years I have worked on losing weight.
I know I am strong. I know I am beautiful. I know I am a fucking bad ass.
I also know that sometimes I feel fat. I feel like an intruder is sitting on my body and taking up space is my clothes that I love.
Sometimes I squeeze my stomach between my fingers and question if it was worth it. The moments that made my stomach protrude outward and 90 percent of the time the answer is YES. The tacos were worth it. The wine was worth it. The humaning was worth it. However, I know that in the future to be truly happy, I have to do a little less humaning and a little more balancing.
Although I can plan to get rid of this literal weight, it is not gone at the moment.
It is a part of me and to love myself, I have to accept it. NOT love it because fat can be a sign that you are overdoing it in some ways. I.E. Wine and tacos.
Can we stop pretending that it's a horrible thing to feel bad about yourself? Sometimes, I feel like the most disgusting human on earth. That doesn't mean I'm not thankful for my life and all the wonderful opportunities I've been given. It just means that at times I let my insecurities take hold and it would be nice to hear, "Yeah, society is a bitch and with all the pressures to be beautiful, there are going to be times where you feel like hot garbage." Keep telling your friends that they're beautiful but also tell them that we all feel fat sometimes. Whether you are skinny or your are fat.
I read an article that demonized chubby girls for calling themselves fat. IF it is your reality that you have been or are overweight, then I understand that your struggles don't match with mine. Except, let's go back to that line and focus on the words your struggle. I will never know exactly how anyone feels. I only know what emotions live in me and they are no less valid than any girl or boy for that matter. BOYS struggle with weight as well. There are so many societal implications that say boys can't be this or that. And it SUCKS. It sucks that we have to wake up and look in the mirror and think anything less than "You are fabulous."
I am fabulous.
I love everything about me, except my fat. I don't love my fat and it would be a lie to say that I do. So today, I choose to celebrate me, fat and all. I celebrate. I dance. I drink my coffee and my wine. I eat my tacos. I go on my run. I sit at the pool. I celebrate the fuck out of myself today.
I celebrate myself, even though I FEEL FAT.
About the blog:
Emily Ann Hansen
I'm a writer and teacher living in Baltimore City. I'm originally from Chicago. I graduated from Columbia College Chicago with a BA in Fiction. Instead of babbling, I will list a few of the things in life that make me happy: