Swan (![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} queenostara) wrote,@ 2009-03-19 15:16:00 |
|
The Fantasy
For the entire writing of this by Kate Harding go here --> http://kateharding.net/2007/11/27/the-f
"I started thinking about what it was really like before I’d actually made peace with my body. And what it was really like was this: The Fantasy of Being Thin absolutely dominated my life — even after I’d gotten thin once, found myself just as depressive and scattered and frustrated as always, and then gained all the weight back because, you know, diets don’t work. The reality of being thin didn’t even sink in after all that, because The Fantasy of Being Thin was still far more familiar to me, still what I knew best. I’d spent years and years nurturing that fantasy, and only a couple years as an actual thin person. Reality didn’t have a chance.
We’ve talked a lot here about how being fat shouldn’t stop you from doing the things you’ve always believed you couldn’t do until you were thin. Put on a bathing suit and go waterskiing. Apply for that awesome job you’re just barely qualified for. Ask that hot guy out. Join a gym. Wear a gorgeous dress. All of those concrete things you’ve been putting off? Just fucking do them, now, because this IS your life, happening as we speak.
But exhortations like that don’t take into account magical thinking about thinness, which I suspect — and the quote above suggests — is really quite common. Because, you see, the Fantasy of Being Thin is not just about becoming small enough to be perceived as more acceptable. It is about becoming an entirely different person – one with far more courage, confidence, and luck than the fat you has. It’s not just, “When I’m thin, I’ll look good in a bathing suit”; it’s “When I’m thin, I will be the kind of person who struts down the beach in a bikini, making men weep.” See also:
* When I’m thin, I’ll have no trouble finding a partner/reinvigorating my marriage.
* When I’m thin, I’ll have the job I’ve always wanted.
* When I’m thin, I won’t be depressed anymore.
* When I’m thin, I’ll be an adventurous world traveler instead of being freaked out by any country where I don’t speak the language and/or the plumbing is questionable.
* When I’m thin, I’ll become really outdoorsy.
* When I’m thin, I’ll be more extroverted and charismatic, and thus have more friends than I know what to do with.
Et cetera, et cetera. Those are examples from my personal Fantasy of Being Thin, but I’m sure you’ve got your own. (Please do share in comments!)
In light of that, it’s a lot easier to understand why some people freak out when you say no, really, your chances of losing weight permanently are virtually nil, so you’d be better off focusing on feeling good and enjoying your life as a fat person. To someone fully wrapped up in The Fantasy of Being Thin, that doesn’t just mean, “All the best evidence suggests you will be fat for the rest of your life, but that’s really not a terrible thing.” It means, “You will NEVER be the person you want to be! All the evidence suggests you will never find a satisfying relationship or get a promotion or make more friends or feel confident trying new things!”
So if that’s what you hear when I say, “Diets don’t work,” then yeah, I can see how that would be a major bummer.
Overcoming The Fantasy of Being Thin might be the hardest part of making it all the way into fat acceptance-land. And that might just be why I’d pushed that part of the process out of my memory: it fucking sucked. Because I didn’t just have to accept the size of my thighs; I had to accept who I am, rather than continuing to wait until I magically became the person I’d always imagined being. Ouch.
That is, of course, a pretty normal part of getting older. You start to realize that yeah, this actually is it, and although you can still try enough new things to keep anyone busy for two lifetimes, you’re pretty much stuck with a basic context. There are skills, experiences, and material things you will almost certainly never have, period. It’s a challenge for all of us to understand that accepting this fact of life does not necessarily mean cutting off options or giving up dreams, but simply — as in the proverbial story about the creation of the David — chipping away all that is not you. But for a fat person, it can be even harder, because so many fucking sources encourage us to believe that inside every one of us is “a thin person waiting to get out” — and that thin person is SO MUCH COOLER.
The reality is, I will never be the kind of person who thinks roughing it in Tibet sounds like a hoot; give me a decent hotel in London any day. I will probably never learn to waterski well, or snow ski at all, or do a back handspring. I can be outgoing and charismatic in small doses, but I will always then need time to recharge my batteries with the dogs and a good book; I’ll never be someone with a chock-full social calendar, because I would find that unbearably exhausting. (And no matter how well I’ve learned to fake it — and thus how much this surprises some people who know me — new social situations will most likely always intimidate the crap out of me.) I might learn to speak one foreign language fluently over the course of my life, but probably not five. I will never publish a novel until I finish writing one. I will always have to be aware of my natural tendency toward depression and might always have to medicate it. Smart money says I am never going to chuck city life to buy an alpaca farm or start a new career as a river guide. And my chances of marrying George Clooney are very, very slim.
None of that is because I’m fat. It’s because I’m me.
But when I was invested in The Fantasy of Being Thin, I really believed that changing this one “simple” (ha!) thing would unlock a whole new identity — this totally fabulous, free-spirited, try-anything-once kind of chick who was effortlessly a magnet for interesting people and experiences. And of course, the dark side of that is that being fat then became an excuse not to do much of anything, because it wouldn’t be the real me doing it, so what was the point? If I wouldn’t find the right guy until I was thin, why bother dating? If I wouldn’t have a breakthrough on the novel until I was thin, why bother writing? If I wouldn’t be the life of the party until I was thin, why bother trying to make new friends? If I wouldn’t feel like climbing a mountain until I was thin, why bother traveling at all?
Et cetera, et cetera, et cetera.
Accepting my fat really wasn’t the hard part. Accepting my personality — and my many limitations that have jack shit to do with my thighs — was. But oddly enough, once I started to do that, my life became about a zillion times more satisfying. I found the right guy, I took up yoga, I started taking my writing more seriously, I stopped apologizing for taking vacations in the U.S. and Canada instead of somewhere more exotic, etc. And lo and behold, things got a lot more fun around here. The thin person inside me finally got out — it just turned out she was actually a fat person. A reasonably attractive, semi-outgoing fat person who has an open mind and an active imagination but also happens to really like routine and familiarity and quiet time alone.
That was never who I expected to be — it was just always who I was.
So giving up dieting and accepting my body didn’t just mean admitting I would never be thin; it meant admitting I would never be a million things I might have been. (Which, I’m told, is a phenomenon sometimes known as “maturity.”) I am absolutely not one for settling — which is where the confusion about pessimism comes in, I think — but I am one for self-awareness and self-forgiveness. Meaning, there’s a big difference between saying you can’t be anything other than what you are right now, and you don’t have to be anything other than what you are right now. You will probably never be permanently thin, unless you are already, but other than that, the sky’s the limit. You can be anything or anyone you want to be, in theory.
The question is, who do you really want to be, and what are you going to do about it? (Okay, two questions.) The Fantasy of Being Thin is a really convenient excuse for not asking yourself those questions sincerely — and that’s exactly why it’s dangerous. It keeps you from being not only who you are, but who you actually could be, if you worked with what you’ve got. And that person trapped inside you really might be cooler than you are right now.
She’s just not [necessarily] thin(ner)."
(ending edited just so any thin women reading don't feel they have to be fat(ter) to be cooler :) )
This is why lately I've been ranting over how ridiculous it is to continually torture yourself over losing weight, because about a month (month and a half, two months maybe) ago, I read this and it was like thunderbolts clapping in my brain. Finally something in my life felt like a scene from a high fantasy story, the sky shook with magnitude, castles were crumbling, voices boomed, and beautiful, reasonable facts swept in and destroyed the lifetime of hate I'd been putting myself through, sweeping the negative thoughts away in a mighty current of loathing and superstitious fear. It didn't erase every self-hating thought I've ever had, nor did it bar me from every negative comment that may ever be made about my body, but it did deal me a huge heaping dollop of glorious release (after about a week of emotional turmoil I was already experiencing thanks to reading a wonderful book about self acceptance - it was great, really, just a lot of hard things to think about). So often in our ridiculous thin worshiping culture we are told we need to be thin before we become anything else, and I'm a little embarrassed to admit that before reading this and many other things I bought every single shrinkwrapped and prepackaged thin worshiping message. And I lost a lot by buying into it. I lost a lot of self respect, self esteem, peace of mind, sanity, and yes, sometimes pounds, but mostly what I lost was time. Fortunately, most of those things can be regained (hahaha). Slowly, I'm working on rectifying my broken self-esteem/respect. Slowly I'm trying to regain my sanity (though going back to school might have been counterproductive for that). Slowly, I'm working towards a gentle peace of mind, and the pounds well... ones I lost in college I think are back, probably to stay, but since fully coming to really actively try to constructively and fully embrace myself (though I know it hasn't been that long), they've pretty much stayed where they are. Sadly, the one thing I cannot regain from all that I sacrificed to self-loathing was also the most precious (cliche as I know it sounds), my time.
For the longest time, these are the things I used to think about the fantasy of being thin:
-When I am thin I will have a boyfriend (randomly got one when I was still my chunky self instead)
-When I am thin I will travel the world (did some of that, started out doing it at my heaviest weight, 210 lbs actually)
-When I am thin I will be graceful (I'm not really a klutz anymore, I don't know why I still think of myself as one)
-When I am thin I will be a better dancer (I'm actually not a trainwreck once I loosen up)
-When I am thin I will randomly dance with a lot of guys (I actually did that when I was my chunkier 210 lb self too... hmmm)
-When I am thin I will be a better performer
-When I am thin I will be able to audition for that part
-When I am thin people will like my voice better (yes, I used to think it was a waste that I had a decent voice and a chubby body!)
-When I am thin I'll have a lot more confidence
-When I am thin people will be drawn to me and I'll be a social butterfly
so on and so on and so on. I'm quite lucky I never really tied my writing to being thin, although for the longest time I was in a state of "if ever I get published I'd SOOOOOOOOOOOOOO need to diet before I'd get photos for the book jacket".
I'm posting this here as a reminder to me to never waste my time on it again. I'm posting it here as an inspiration for everything I can be and do and as a reminder that I do not need to be thin(ner) to be/do them. I'm posting this here because I'm on my period and feeling quite self conscious about my body this week, try as I might to pick myself up and reading all the above just helps the best. I'm also posting it to anyone else who hasn't read it yet, as I feel like it's something everyone needs to read in today's thin-obsessed culture. I certainly needed to hear it, and it's done a lot for my psyche. I just wish I would have read it sooner, though part of me wonders that it may not have had the impact it did two months ago had I read it 8 or 9 months ago, a year or two ago, or my junior year of high school when I was in the bowels of a very self-destructive bout of self-hate manifested as an eating disorder and an obsession with working out. I've fooled myself for years as I did then, that it wasn't that bad, that it wasn't that extreme, and that if only I could get close to that point again I'd be thin again. No, I won't lie to myself anymore, and there's no point lying to the internet. What it was, was either a mild bout of anorexia or something very damn near close. I'm only fortunate that it didn't last long enough to do any more damage to my mind and body, because it and years afterward of idolizing the body I got from doing it did quite enough damage. And lying about it to make it seem less extreme certainly didn't help.
This is also why I don't believe in saying, "oh, I'm not going on a diet, I'm trying for a lifestyle change!" Because I really only believe in lifestyle changes for something you really want. Example, I made a change a while back to walk more, and I love it. It's great for my peace of mind and it makes me feel stronger, I made the change, and I've mostly stuck with it because I enjoy it. I am not however, going to waste hours at the gym as a new "lifestyle change" and deny my body what it wants/needs. Especially since I don't really enjoy going to the gym. I'd be up for trying rock climbing (probably not on a real mountain at first though) but I'm not going to try it as a lifestyle change until I know it's a lifestyle I actually, WANT. I'm all for changes, but only in favor of changes for as long as they offer benefits. If I cease to feel good about having long walk, I will cease to do it, perhaps I'll try swimming or dancing instead. Another reason why I don't believe in lifestyle changes is because they're far too close to diets (well, actually in my opinion, they're glorified diets), especially for someone like me. They're far too close to that toxic kind of thinking one obtains through dieting and all it takes to go back into that calorie counting/cutting, insanity driving, crazy town from a "healthy lifestyle change" is an extra emotional night after a day where nothing seems to fit right. I'm done doing that. I'm done flirting with eating disorder and I'm done with reveling in that feeling of how thin I feel when my stomach is literally churning as a means of my body crying out in anguish over what new torture I'm putting it through. And I'm definitely done criticizing other bodies, especially criticizing other bodies as a means of feeling better about my own.
Instead, I choose to revel in how good I feel after a good meal. I choose to see how beautiful I am and how unique and even more exquisite my flaws make me(I don't care if I'm sounding vain here, I don't do this often enough). I choose to really look at people and see just how beautiful everyone is. I choose to exercise when my body tells me to and to stop when it tells me to as well. I choose to revel in how easy that decision is without factoring in how many calories I may or may not burn, how fat my stomach is or isn't, and how much easier shopping will be when I am not afraid to get a bigger size if that's what it takes for me to feel comfortable. I choose instead to buy clothing that fits and shows how beautiful my body is NOW not clothing that may or may not fit a possibly different body in the uncertain future. And I choose to actively be myself every day. I am and am not so many things and I don't owe anyone an explanation for who I am, and I certainly don't owe anyone any explanation for my body. I do not owe it to anyone to be anything, least of all thin or "beautiful". I only owe it to myself to be the happiest and healthiest I can be. And I can be all of that, without being any smaller, without being any different at all.
For the entire writing of this by Kate Harding go here --> http://kateharding.net/2007/11/27/the-f
"I started thinking about what it was really like before I’d actually made peace with my body. And what it was really like was this: The Fantasy of Being Thin absolutely dominated my life — even after I’d gotten thin once, found myself just as depressive and scattered and frustrated as always, and then gained all the weight back because, you know, diets don’t work. The reality of being thin didn’t even sink in after all that, because The Fantasy of Being Thin was still far more familiar to me, still what I knew best. I’d spent years and years nurturing that fantasy, and only a couple years as an actual thin person. Reality didn’t have a chance.
We’ve talked a lot here about how being fat shouldn’t stop you from doing the things you’ve always believed you couldn’t do until you were thin. Put on a bathing suit and go waterskiing. Apply for that awesome job you’re just barely qualified for. Ask that hot guy out. Join a gym. Wear a gorgeous dress. All of those concrete things you’ve been putting off? Just fucking do them, now, because this IS your life, happening as we speak.
But exhortations like that don’t take into account magical thinking about thinness, which I suspect — and the quote above suggests — is really quite common. Because, you see, the Fantasy of Being Thin is not just about becoming small enough to be perceived as more acceptable. It is about becoming an entirely different person – one with far more courage, confidence, and luck than the fat you has. It’s not just, “When I’m thin, I’ll look good in a bathing suit”; it’s “When I’m thin, I will be the kind of person who struts down the beach in a bikini, making men weep.” See also:
* When I’m thin, I’ll have no trouble finding a partner/reinvigorating my marriage.
* When I’m thin, I’ll have the job I’ve always wanted.
* When I’m thin, I won’t be depressed anymore.
* When I’m thin, I’ll be an adventurous world traveler instead of being freaked out by any country where I don’t speak the language and/or the plumbing is questionable.
* When I’m thin, I’ll become really outdoorsy.
* When I’m thin, I’ll be more extroverted and charismatic, and thus have more friends than I know what to do with.
Et cetera, et cetera. Those are examples from my personal Fantasy of Being Thin, but I’m sure you’ve got your own. (Please do share in comments!)
In light of that, it’s a lot easier to understand why some people freak out when you say no, really, your chances of losing weight permanently are virtually nil, so you’d be better off focusing on feeling good and enjoying your life as a fat person. To someone fully wrapped up in The Fantasy of Being Thin, that doesn’t just mean, “All the best evidence suggests you will be fat for the rest of your life, but that’s really not a terrible thing.” It means, “You will NEVER be the person you want to be! All the evidence suggests you will never find a satisfying relationship or get a promotion or make more friends or feel confident trying new things!”
So if that’s what you hear when I say, “Diets don’t work,” then yeah, I can see how that would be a major bummer.
Overcoming The Fantasy of Being Thin might be the hardest part of making it all the way into fat acceptance-land. And that might just be why I’d pushed that part of the process out of my memory: it fucking sucked. Because I didn’t just have to accept the size of my thighs; I had to accept who I am, rather than continuing to wait until I magically became the person I’d always imagined being. Ouch.
That is, of course, a pretty normal part of getting older. You start to realize that yeah, this actually is it, and although you can still try enough new things to keep anyone busy for two lifetimes, you’re pretty much stuck with a basic context. There are skills, experiences, and material things you will almost certainly never have, period. It’s a challenge for all of us to understand that accepting this fact of life does not necessarily mean cutting off options or giving up dreams, but simply — as in the proverbial story about the creation of the David — chipping away all that is not you. But for a fat person, it can be even harder, because so many fucking sources encourage us to believe that inside every one of us is “a thin person waiting to get out” — and that thin person is SO MUCH COOLER.
The reality is, I will never be the kind of person who thinks roughing it in Tibet sounds like a hoot; give me a decent hotel in London any day. I will probably never learn to waterski well, or snow ski at all, or do a back handspring. I can be outgoing and charismatic in small doses, but I will always then need time to recharge my batteries with the dogs and a good book; I’ll never be someone with a chock-full social calendar, because I would find that unbearably exhausting. (And no matter how well I’ve learned to fake it — and thus how much this surprises some people who know me — new social situations will most likely always intimidate the crap out of me.) I might learn to speak one foreign language fluently over the course of my life, but probably not five. I will never publish a novel until I finish writing one. I will always have to be aware of my natural tendency toward depression and might always have to medicate it. Smart money says I am never going to chuck city life to buy an alpaca farm or start a new career as a river guide. And my chances of marrying George Clooney are very, very slim.
None of that is because I’m fat. It’s because I’m me.
But when I was invested in The Fantasy of Being Thin, I really believed that changing this one “simple” (ha!) thing would unlock a whole new identity — this totally fabulous, free-spirited, try-anything-once kind of chick who was effortlessly a magnet for interesting people and experiences. And of course, the dark side of that is that being fat then became an excuse not to do much of anything, because it wouldn’t be the real me doing it, so what was the point? If I wouldn’t find the right guy until I was thin, why bother dating? If I wouldn’t have a breakthrough on the novel until I was thin, why bother writing? If I wouldn’t be the life of the party until I was thin, why bother trying to make new friends? If I wouldn’t feel like climbing a mountain until I was thin, why bother traveling at all?
Et cetera, et cetera, et cetera.
Accepting my fat really wasn’t the hard part. Accepting my personality — and my many limitations that have jack shit to do with my thighs — was. But oddly enough, once I started to do that, my life became about a zillion times more satisfying. I found the right guy, I took up yoga, I started taking my writing more seriously, I stopped apologizing for taking vacations in the U.S. and Canada instead of somewhere more exotic, etc. And lo and behold, things got a lot more fun around here. The thin person inside me finally got out — it just turned out she was actually a fat person. A reasonably attractive, semi-outgoing fat person who has an open mind and an active imagination but also happens to really like routine and familiarity and quiet time alone.
That was never who I expected to be — it was just always who I was.
So giving up dieting and accepting my body didn’t just mean admitting I would never be thin; it meant admitting I would never be a million things I might have been. (Which, I’m told, is a phenomenon sometimes known as “maturity.”) I am absolutely not one for settling — which is where the confusion about pessimism comes in, I think — but I am one for self-awareness and self-forgiveness. Meaning, there’s a big difference between saying you can’t be anything other than what you are right now, and you don’t have to be anything other than what you are right now. You will probably never be permanently thin, unless you are already, but other than that, the sky’s the limit. You can be anything or anyone you want to be, in theory.
The question is, who do you really want to be, and what are you going to do about it? (Okay, two questions.) The Fantasy of Being Thin is a really convenient excuse for not asking yourself those questions sincerely — and that’s exactly why it’s dangerous. It keeps you from being not only who you are, but who you actually could be, if you worked with what you’ve got. And that person trapped inside you really might be cooler than you are right now.
She’s just not [necessarily] thin(ner)."
(ending edited just so any thin women reading don't feel they have to be fat(ter) to be cooler :) )
This is why lately I've been ranting over how ridiculous it is to continually torture yourself over losing weight, because about a month (month and a half, two months maybe) ago, I read this and it was like thunderbolts clapping in my brain. Finally something in my life felt like a scene from a high fantasy story, the sky shook with magnitude, castles were crumbling, voices boomed, and beautiful, reasonable facts swept in and destroyed the lifetime of hate I'd been putting myself through, sweeping the negative thoughts away in a mighty current of loathing and superstitious fear. It didn't erase every self-hating thought I've ever had, nor did it bar me from every negative comment that may ever be made about my body, but it did deal me a huge heaping dollop of glorious release (after about a week of emotional turmoil I was already experiencing thanks to reading a wonderful book about self acceptance - it was great, really, just a lot of hard things to think about). So often in our ridiculous thin worshiping culture we are told we need to be thin before we become anything else, and I'm a little embarrassed to admit that before reading this and many other things I bought every single shrinkwrapped and prepackaged thin worshiping message. And I lost a lot by buying into it. I lost a lot of self respect, self esteem, peace of mind, sanity, and yes, sometimes pounds, but mostly what I lost was time. Fortunately, most of those things can be regained (hahaha). Slowly, I'm working on rectifying my broken self-esteem/respect. Slowly I'm trying to regain my sanity (though going back to school might have been counterproductive for that). Slowly, I'm working towards a gentle peace of mind, and the pounds well... ones I lost in college I think are back, probably to stay, but since fully coming to really actively try to constructively and fully embrace myself (though I know it hasn't been that long), they've pretty much stayed where they are. Sadly, the one thing I cannot regain from all that I sacrificed to self-loathing was also the most precious (cliche as I know it sounds), my time.
For the longest time, these are the things I used to think about the fantasy of being thin:
-When I am thin I will have a boyfriend (randomly got one when I was still my chunky self instead)
-When I am thin I will travel the world (did some of that, started out doing it at my heaviest weight, 210 lbs actually)
-When I am thin I will be graceful (I'm not really a klutz anymore, I don't know why I still think of myself as one)
-When I am thin I will be a better dancer (I'm actually not a trainwreck once I loosen up)
-When I am thin I will randomly dance with a lot of guys (I actually did that when I was my chunkier 210 lb self too... hmmm)
-When I am thin I will be a better performer
-When I am thin I will be able to audition for that part
-When I am thin people will like my voice better (yes, I used to think it was a waste that I had a decent voice and a chubby body!)
-When I am thin I'll have a lot more confidence
-When I am thin people will be drawn to me and I'll be a social butterfly
so on and so on and so on. I'm quite lucky I never really tied my writing to being thin, although for the longest time I was in a state of "if ever I get published I'd SOOOOOOOOOOOOOO need to diet before I'd get photos for the book jacket".
I'm posting this here as a reminder to me to never waste my time on it again. I'm posting it here as an inspiration for everything I can be and do and as a reminder that I do not need to be thin(ner) to be/do them. I'm posting this here because I'm on my period and feeling quite self conscious about my body this week, try as I might to pick myself up and reading all the above just helps the best. I'm also posting it to anyone else who hasn't read it yet, as I feel like it's something everyone needs to read in today's thin-obsessed culture. I certainly needed to hear it, and it's done a lot for my psyche. I just wish I would have read it sooner, though part of me wonders that it may not have had the impact it did two months ago had I read it 8 or 9 months ago, a year or two ago, or my junior year of high school when I was in the bowels of a very self-destructive bout of self-hate manifested as an eating disorder and an obsession with working out. I've fooled myself for years as I did then, that it wasn't that bad, that it wasn't that extreme, and that if only I could get close to that point again I'd be thin again. No, I won't lie to myself anymore, and there's no point lying to the internet. What it was, was either a mild bout of anorexia or something very damn near close. I'm only fortunate that it didn't last long enough to do any more damage to my mind and body, because it and years afterward of idolizing the body I got from doing it did quite enough damage. And lying about it to make it seem less extreme certainly didn't help.
This is also why I don't believe in saying, "oh, I'm not going on a diet, I'm trying for a lifestyle change!" Because I really only believe in lifestyle changes for something you really want. Example, I made a change a while back to walk more, and I love it. It's great for my peace of mind and it makes me feel stronger, I made the change, and I've mostly stuck with it because I enjoy it. I am not however, going to waste hours at the gym as a new "lifestyle change" and deny my body what it wants/needs. Especially since I don't really enjoy going to the gym. I'd be up for trying rock climbing (probably not on a real mountain at first though) but I'm not going to try it as a lifestyle change until I know it's a lifestyle I actually, WANT. I'm all for changes, but only in favor of changes for as long as they offer benefits. If I cease to feel good about having long walk, I will cease to do it, perhaps I'll try swimming or dancing instead. Another reason why I don't believe in lifestyle changes is because they're far too close to diets (well, actually in my opinion, they're glorified diets), especially for someone like me. They're far too close to that toxic kind of thinking one obtains through dieting and all it takes to go back into that calorie counting/cutting, insanity driving, crazy town from a "healthy lifestyle change" is an extra emotional night after a day where nothing seems to fit right. I'm done doing that. I'm done flirting with eating disorder and I'm done with reveling in that feeling of how thin I feel when my stomach is literally churning as a means of my body crying out in anguish over what new torture I'm putting it through. And I'm definitely done criticizing other bodies, especially criticizing other bodies as a means of feeling better about my own.
Instead, I choose to revel in how good I feel after a good meal. I choose to see how beautiful I am and how unique and even more exquisite my flaws make me(I don't care if I'm sounding vain here, I don't do this often enough). I choose to really look at people and see just how beautiful everyone is. I choose to exercise when my body tells me to and to stop when it tells me to as well. I choose to revel in how easy that decision is without factoring in how many calories I may or may not burn, how fat my stomach is or isn't, and how much easier shopping will be when I am not afraid to get a bigger size if that's what it takes for me to feel comfortable. I choose instead to buy clothing that fits and shows how beautiful my body is NOW not clothing that may or may not fit a possibly different body in the uncertain future. And I choose to actively be myself every day. I am and am not so many things and I don't owe anyone an explanation for who I am, and I certainly don't owe anyone any explanation for my body. I do not owe it to anyone to be anything, least of all thin or "beautiful". I only owe it to myself to be the happiest and healthiest I can be. And I can be all of that, without being any smaller, without being any different at all.
