I'm Fat And I'm Okay With That
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Health and Wellness

I'm Fat And I'm Okay With That

I'm Fat And I'm Okay With That

I'm fat.

I'm not saying that for attention. I'm not saying that because I want people to say, "Oh honey, no you're not." I'm saying that because for my height, age, and every other statistic on my record, weighing 230 pounds is fat. I am okay with being fat. It's a part of who I am. One of the things I was really big on this year was learning to love myself. This is my adventure, loving who I am.

I have never been okay with my weight. I recall looking in the mirror at a very young age pinching and poking at the belly I had. I wanted liposuction (I didn't know what it was -- I just knew it took your fat away) on my arms and my tummy. When I was in fourth grade, I had the prettiest skirt. It was a brown, green, blue, and white color and floralish-paisley that flowed down to my calves. When I tried wearing it at my hips, my mom insisted on me wearing it a bit higher so I didn't show the little belly I had. I thought it was a good idea; I could hide the belly I absolutely hated, so I hiked the skirt up a little below my belly button. I guess this was a problem for a couple of boys on my bus. They said I was fat and that I looked like an old lady with my skirt worn higher and they laughed and laughed and laughed. I was so hurt because someone finally saw what I saw, and that was something I never wanted.

As I moved into middle school, I was a target for bullying. I was overweight, had pink glasses, bulky bangs, and braces. I was called "Ugly Betty" more than I was called my regular name. Going into seventh grade, I started taking some required medications that caused hunger suppression. I never felt hungry and I had to force myself to eat. I dropped a ton of weight, but I didn't really notice because I still saw myself as disgustingly fat. I quickly stopped taking these medications again because of the other side effects I didn't like. I noticed I started eating more and more, and it made me feel sick. I already felt fat enough.

Going into my freshman year of high school, I felt out of control. I didn't want to be fat, but I couldn't stop eating. I wanted to be pretty, but my hunger always won. I felt like I had no control in my life, then I remembered what it felt like to be on the medications I was once taking. Yeah, it made me really quiet and irritable, no one wanted to be around me, but it made me not hungry, and it made me not want to eat; and that was exactly what I wanted. I started taking them again, I took them only during the week and barely ate and didn't take them on weekends and ate everything. I felt like I had my life under control by doing this to myself, but looking back on it, I was completely out of control. The dependence on the medicine became too much, yet again, so I kicked them to the curb.

Heading toward the end of that year, I had another trigger happen that I can remember it as if it happened five minutes ago. I was at lunch with a "friend." Neither of us really ate lunch, but we always got fries and a slushie and shared it. As the school was drawing to an end, she became noticeably more irritable and rude. I felt like I was a burden when I was around her, and it made me incredibly self-conscious of everything I did. One day, we were at lunch sharing our usual snack, and I went to grab a couple of fries and she pulled them away and said loud enough so the whole table could hear, "Do you really need more fries? You're already fat enough, Amy." I felt so hurt and dumbfounded that someone I thought was my friend would say that to me. I was dizzy and ran to the bathroom and stayed there, crying, for the rest of the period.

After that day, I was consumed with self-loathing. I didn't understand why I deserved to live in this body, and why I had the hunger and metabolism that I did. I never wanted to eat in front of people, anymore.

My sophomore year of high school, I didn't take a lunch so I could be in women's choir and we were able to get lunch and eat in the choir room before we started rehearsing. I chose not to eat because I would rather go hungry than have the feeling of all eyes on me and risk criticism. I couldn't eat when I went to my boyfriend's family parties because I felt like they were all judging me based on how I ate, and how much I ate. I was constantly tormented by my looks and my weight. I hated myself more than anything.

I tried dieting the summer before my junior year, but it was incredibly unhealthy. I was in a musical where I was dancing a lot and I was exercising on top of it. I was tracking my calories and only eating about 800 calories a day. While I was losing weight, it was incredibly unhealthy and it all came to a halt when school started again in the fall as it was difficult to find time to exercise and track what I ate throughout the day.

I tried dieting again my first semester of my freshman year of college and while I liked how I felt when I did it, I felt guilty if I missed a day at the gym, or ate one wrong meal. I suppose I had some sort of epiphany over winter break about myself: I found that with time and growth comes acceptance. I know I will never be a size zero. I know I will probably never be able to say I have a "bikini-ready" body. I won't fit into 90 percent of my friends clothes if I need to borrow something. And I am okay with that.

I am happy with who I am because I am surrounded by people who love me and cherish me, not for what I look like but for who I am. Weight, size, shape, and looks do not define beauty, and they most definitely don't define your worth. If someone doesn't want to be friends with me because I'm "plus size," then they're just missing out on my "plus size" fun -- and midnight runs for food. Loving yourself doesn't come easy; it's a rocky path that takes strength and time to endure, but it's worth it.

I am Amy. I am fat and I love with who I am, and don't give a damn what you think about it.

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This article has not been reviewed by Odyssey HQ and solely reflects the ideas and opinions of the creator.
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