Recently, I received a heartfelt note from a reader who connected with an essay I wrote about my partner. Her words were kind, yet one line struck me hard: “I wish I had your confidence.” She shared that, as she read about my experiences as a plus-size woman, she felt a disconnect with her own self-image. To her, I seemed vibrant and self-assured, while she felt invisible and inadequate. She lamented, “You are out there truly living. I just exist.”
I responded with encouragement, but deep down, I wanted to say, “Oh, dear friend. If you only knew.” I completely understand her feelings because, honestly, I feel that way too sometimes.
I often wish I could maintain that unwavering confidence. I sometimes long to be that sassy, outgoing woman who always radiates self-assurance. Sure, I recognize my own worth—I believe I’m beautiful, intelligent, and deserving of love and joy. Most days, I feel pretty good about myself, and I certainly don’t think my weight defines who I am.
I cherish my life in this body. I can rock a bold red lip like a pro. I have a wonderful family, and I’m known for my hearty laughter and generous spirit. I am genuinely content with the person I’ve become. Yet, that doesn’t erase the fact that being fat can truly suck sometimes. The negative narratives about larger bodies are ever-present, and it’s impossible to shield myself from them completely. There are days when the critics’ voices drown out my own self-acceptance.
At the moment, I’m not at a weight I feel comfortable with, which can affect my self-image and participation in activities. For me, being fat is not always a straightforward acceptance; it can be a tangled web of emotions.
Still, I remind myself that this is the only body I’ll ever have, and I refuse to hate it. On tougher days, I focus on everything that is vibrant and whole about my being. I occasionally question if I’m justified in celebrating a body that diverges from societal norms. Isn’t embracing larger bodies akin to promoting unhealthy lifestyles?
But let’s be real. I don’t actually question that at all. Those who suggest that are missing the point entirely, and I wholeheartedly reject that idea. I celebrate every inch of my body without any guilt because it has carried me through the darkest moments of my life with grace. It has been my home during every joyful experience and has supported me through my greatest achievements.
When I’ve been moved to tears by the sheer happiness of a moment, it has always been in this body. It conceived, carried, and nurtured my children, but I strive not to let motherhood define me entirely. Just as I’m more than my size, I’m also more than a mom. The ability to give life doesn’t solely define my worth, and my weight doesn’t diminish my right to celebrate myself.
So, pardon me while I take joy in my life without any apologies. The last time I faced a difficult day, my partner was away. Unable to escape my responsibilities, I donned some lipstick, cranked up Motown’s greatest hits, and danced with my kids in the kitchen. In those moments of laughter and movement, I let go of my body criticism and instead, expressed gratitude for the privilege of experiencing life in this body.
There will always be days when I feel unattractive or inadequate, but those feelings are simply misguided. My body isn’t my adversary; it’s my sanctuary. I owe everything to it and will never apologize for loving myself. You shouldn’t either.
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In summary, it’s possible to embrace confidence and happiness in our bodies while also acknowledging the challenges that come with being fat. We deserve to love ourselves without hesitation, regardless of society’s standards.