If you ask my doctor, I’m obese. If you ask my momma, I’ve got meat on my bones. If you ask my former neighbor, I’m a fat bitch. If you ask the fashion industry, I’m a freakish subhuman creature who barely deserves to wear clothes, much less live.
If you ask me, it’s all nonsense. I’m fat. And people like to try to tiptoe around it (except for my former neighbor, who wasn’t being honest so much as he was trying to insult me).
Anyway you look at it, it’s OK. Really. It doesn’t mean I’m stupid or lazy or ugly or selfish or inept or slow or anything like that. It’s not a reflection on my character. Fat is simply a physical description that suits me. And it suits a very large number of people, so I’ve got plenty of company.
If you want the numbers, I’m 5’10” and I wear a 24W most of the time. (Which means, if you need a visual, that I’m the same size and height as Camryn Manheim.) Sometimes it’s a 22W or a 26W, depending on where I shop. And, oh, isn’t shopping grand? It’s not that I don’t like how I look in the clothes I try on in stores, it’s simply that most stores don’t carry my size. Which is fine. If they don’t want money from my fat little hands, then I won’t shop at their store. (I don’t want their purses or socks anyway, which are the only things that fit me in most clothes stores.)
Retailers aren’t the only ones who don’t want fat people around. Plenty of skinny people hate fat people for no other reason than size. Why? I mean, if you’re going to hate me, don’t do it just because I’m fat when I’ve got tons of other reasons:
I’m a bitch. I never call or return emails. I love the Tick. I can’t remember birthdays or anniversaries. I’m a fiscal conservative. I have an obsession with Firefly (especially Jayne Cobb – bunk). I’m fiercely independent. I love Taco Bell. I know most everything. I’m a former Christian. I don’t know or care how much I weigh. I quote Gilbert and Sullivan inappropriately. I think I’m funny. I think pink guns are gorgeous. I love carrots. I think I’m atheist or agnostic. I’m all about being fat and happy. And I’m better than you.
There. Now you can hate me properly, for the right reasons.
So if I’m all about being fat and happy, why am I on the Warrior Diet? Well, that’s a complicated question. I want to feel better. I want to feel good. No, more than that, I want to feel goddamn great. The last 18 months have been hell, for various reasons (none of which are directly related to my weight, though the 30 pounds I’ve gained this past year is part of the problem). It’s left my body feeling old and painful at times.
I’m 32; that ain’t right. I’m too young to feel this old. And I’ve heard that the live food thing that the Warrior Diet espouses really makes you feel good. That’s what I want. I want to be healthy and I want to feel f’n fantastic. With that in mind, the Warrior Diet isn’t really a “diet” in the traditional sense of the word; it’s not one that I’m going to follow for a while then leave when I’ve lost weight. It’s one I plan on following forever if it makes me feel good. If not, I’ll try something else.
Do I want to loose weight? I’d like to be somewhere around a size 16W or so, ideally. (BTW, 16W is considered “fat” by most people. Seriously, a 12W model is considered “plus sized.”) I may never reach 16W. It may never happen. But, it may. Regardless, it’s not going to change who I am or how I feel about myself. Oh, I’ll joke whenever someone posts a pic of a skinny beauty that I need to lose weight or work out or something. It’s a joke, and not indicative of my feelings of self worth.
Don’t think (because of a few jokes) that my self worth is inversely related to my clothes size. It isn’t. (Making fun of me is something at which I excel. So I do it often. Some people don’t get it and mistake it for self esteem problems. Dolts.) Besides, I’ve got plenty going for me (for example: my ability to write a freaking book of a post about a topic I’d only planned on briefly mentioning – sheesh).
But, some will argue, we’re in the middle of an obesity epidemic. Well, yeah. But I’m not touting the merits of sitting around munching cupcakes, eating fast food, watching TV, and gorging on cokes in your sweats. That’s certainly a cause of obesity (and it may be the leading cause of obesity in the US – I don’t know – it is portrayed that way by the entertainment industry), but it’s not the lifestyle I advocate. We all know that it’s important to eat right and exercise plenty.
Here’s the thing most people don’t get, even the skinny ones: If you eat right, exercise plenty and are still fat, your life isn’t over.
And yeah. There are plenty of people who do just what they’re supposed to do to be fit, and yet are never considered within acceptable weight ranges. Besides, most people who lose weight gain it all back within the first few years anyway. And by “most” I don’t mean, “a slim majority, like 60 percent.” Oh no. I mean, “98 freaking percent of people who lose weight and stick to their diets afterwards will still regain the weight.” So there’s no use basing my self worth on a smaller dress size that will likely be transitory if I obtain it at all.
So I told you all of that to tell you this. It’s my new mantra, and I developed it through the overly-long junk I wrote above.
Don’t wait to live. Don’t wait on that smaller dress size to feel f’n fantastic. Now is all anybody ever has. Don’t waste it waiting on ifs and maybes.
(I know. One and a half pages to get to the point… which was four sentences. Like I said, I’m a verbose bitch. Feel free to hate me for it. It is, after all, an unjust world. And virtue is triumphant only in theatrical performances.)