I am fat.
No, I am.
This is not an epiphany; I’ve known it for some time. The clues have always been there.
Junk in the trunk
There’s no two ways about it, I am fat.
But I am not lazy. Or mean. I’m not stupid, greedy, selfish, weak, ugly, dishonest, or any other insult that has come to be associated with the word ‘fat’.
For years (and YEARS) various people have told me that I’m not fat; I’m curvy. I’m not fat; I’m beautiful. I’m not fat; I’m sexy. I’m not fat; I’m strong.
I used to take it as a compliment, but now I’m beginning to wonder…why can I not be both?
I refuse to accept ‘fat’ and ‘beautiful’ as mutually exclusive terms. I know it’s possible to be both because I am both. I’m strong and fit, happy, giving, far too loving, and none of those are hindered, or even affected in the slightest, by the fact that I am also fat.
When I say I’m fat (and I’m going to keep doing that, by the way) I’m not insulting myself or putting myself down, I’m just stating a fact. Saying my hair is brown is not an insult, it’s a fact. And extrapolating my personality from my body fat percentage is as ridiculous as using my hair colour to guess my favourite cheese*.
So I’m joining the fight to knock ‘fat’ back down to just another word. If I ever hear “you’re not fat; you’re (insert compliment here)” my instant and vehement response will be “I am both!”. I will keep using the word as often as I can, and explaining that it’s not an insult as often as I need to. I imagine that will be quite often.
I’m not sure how much difference I can make as just one person, but I know it’s more than none. And if I can get one other person to even think about the way they use the word ‘fat’, I will consider that a victory.
Here goes the revolution!
*Brie. If you were wondering.