I accept this.
I even kind of like it. This size fits me. Fat girls can have attitudes. We're expected to be loud and pushy. All in all our bodies are to be as big as our personalities. I like that. We fatties are suppose to be jolly. When I erupt with laughter, you can expect a jiggle from my belly.
What i hate is not being able to cutely sit on my boyfriends lap; knowing he could never carry me over a threshold; looking at him when we have sex and wondering if he's disgusted at how much I jiggle.
What i hate is when i go out to eat and clean my plate and just know everyone is laughing at the stereotype, then being too self-conscious to order that delicious black tie mouse cake.
What i hate is the sudden jolt of sadness I feel when out of the piles and piles of dresses me and my mother picked out at Simon's, only a minuscule amount would actually zip up. There is nothing like the hot sting of tears welling up in your eyes after you stuffed your humongous body into a dress, to come out looking like a sausaged whale, to see the expectant look of the mothers sitting outside of the dressing drop, some even stifling a laugh.
I've tried losing weight because I know it unhealthy to be obese, no matter how often I say this layer of blubber keeps me warm in winter. It's also unhealthy to hate your body though. And when I am pushed to the point to actually make my lazy, chocolate loving ass to go for a run and eat a salad, it's because I hate the dips of my cellulite and the roll hanging over my jeans and my belly's for needing substance and nose for all the delicious scents it smelling, and my eyes for seeing the food I'm bound to lust after. I want to love my body enough to take care of it but it's hard because every where is telling me the way I look isn't right and the only way to be happy is to be thin.
At least I'm pretty...
and thank god for cookies.
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