i work at a tiny Subway in a crappy mall food court. there’s not much else for teenagers to do on weekends but go to the mall, gather in the food court, and annoy everybody in a ten mile radius. more than once i’ve had teenage boys come up to me and harass me. i guess you could say i’m an easy target. i’m 20, 5’6, and weigh about 300 pounds, give or take. i’ve been teased my entire life, mainly by boys my age or younger. there’s nothing funnier than making fun of the fat girl, right?
tonight as i was closing up the store i had a teenage boy come up to me, stand a little to the side, and loudly say “hook it up, fatty!” he proceeded to laugh and quickly walk away to a group of laughing teenage boys. i just clenched my teeth and kept cleaning.
i usually don’t let shit like this get to me, but for some reason, it really upset me. i’ve had low self esteem my entire life. i’ve tried every diet you could ever think of. i’ve tried starving myself a few times. a mixture of mental illness and self hatred caused four years of self harm. i cut up my fat arms, my fat thighs, and my fat tummy. i punished myself until i was shaking and i couldn’t breathe. how dare you be so disgusting. how dare you be so fat. how dare you be so worthless, worthless, worthless.
but tonight, instead of going home and carving the word fat into the fattest part of my stomach, i decided to take this picture:
what about this body is so awful that i was convinced i needed such punishment for so long? why does everyone let my body impact their opinion of me more than my character? why is “fat” the worst thing someone can be? you know what would have hurt me even more than being called fat by a low life teenage boy tonight? being called selfish, mean, arrogant, manipulative, controlling, jealous, vindictive, cruel, etc.
my body is not the worst thing about me. my body is not reason enough to harass me, call me names, and try to make me feel worse about myself than i already do. my body is the only body i’m ever going to get and i’ve spent 20 years hating it because society has taught me that i should.
i’m putting my foot down. enough is enough. i am beautiful. i am beautiful from the top of my head all the way down to my orange painted toe nails. i’m beautiful from my scarred, chunky thighs to my big, hanging stomach. i’m beautiful from the fat under my chin to the flab under my arms. i’m beautiful to my D cup boobs to my flat as hell ass. i may not have a flat stomach and a thigh gap but i’ve got killer hips and legs that should be shown off.
i am damn lucky to have this beautiful body and anyone crazy enough to put up with my bullshit would be damn lucky to have my beautiful body as well. and if you disagree, i am no longer choosing to give a single fuck. this is my body. this is my life. the only opinion that matters is MINE.
i have choices in my life. if i’ve learned anything through my long, extensive recovery process, it’s that. i choose body love. i choose body positivity. i choose to love the only true home i’ll ever get.
and you know what else i choose?
because i fucking deserve it.