Whenever people can’t think of a better way to insult me, they always seem to go right for the “fat” thing. The problem is, that word does not offend me. The word “fat,” to me, is merely an adjective. It says nothing about who I am as a person or what I am about. It says nothing about how good or bad of a friend, or daughter, or sister, or dog-mom I am. It does not insult my intelligence or my sense of style. See, those are the things I would be offended about. But some people can’t see past the fat to get to that.
Whenever people call me fat, I usually laugh. Or agree. That really seems to throw people off. Just being fat and happy and out in the world really seems to throw people off. On the contrary, often times when I refer to myself as fat, people get offended. I get a lot of “you’re not fat, you’re just voluptuous/curvy/chubby.” THOSE WORDS ARE A POLITE WAY OF SAYING FAT, RIGHT? I don’t understand why people can’t just say fat. Fat is not a negative word!!!
I haven’t always been this confident, though. And I still have my days when I get a little sad about my double chin or my thick thighs. I’m not perfect, I’m still human, and I still live in a society that is continually urging me as a woman, and especially as a fat woman, to stop taking up so much space. But I’m working on it every day.
When I look at myself in the mirror, I see a wavy black mane of silky hair. Sometimes I see a pretty face, sometimes I see a pretty average face. I see a double chin that there’s no hiding. I see large breasts that hurt my back and make it hard to find any article of clothing that fits properly. (But nonetheless they are, in my opinion, one of my best physical qualities.) I see narrow shoulders and a narrow waist that curve out into round hips. I see a pot belly, I see silvery stretchmarks on my thighs (which are also proportionality to the rest of my body) leading down to strong calves which disappear via tiny ankles into freakishly tiny feet. I think that I love myself, and that my body and I have been through a lot together. I sometimes wonder who the next person will be to appreciate my body as much as I do, and as many lovers have in the past.
Tumblr changed my life. No hyperbole, I really mean that. Without all of my beautiful Tumblr friends, I would hardly be able to look at myself in the mirror in the same way I do. Constantly seeing images of other fat, happy, fashionable people helps me to normalize my own body. Being able to relate to other females/femmes on issues like chub rub, ill-fitting bras, wonky sizing, etc. is a gift that I don’t even know where to begin being thankful for. And it’s not even just fat people. Looking at confident people in general helps me. I truly believe that every body is a good body.
In closing, since I was supposed to write a story about one specific physical feature, I choose my belly button. I got it pierced toward the end of high school. About my sophomore year of college, my body started to reject the piercing. It began to grow out and look quite grotesque. So I finally took the bar out, but it was too late. Now I have a strange chunk of skin missing, and it almost looks like I have two belly buttons. And honestly, that is the thing I am probably most embarrassed of on my whole body, because it could have been prevented very easily. Plus belly button piercings are just kind of embarrassing in general, and now I can never hide that I had one! Haha.
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