In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m a fatty. Am I ashamed? Hell no! What I am ashamed of is how non-fat people, judge fat people like myself.
You don’t know my story. I don’t know yours. Which is why I won’t stare at you, and judge you.
Am I trying to glorify being fat? Nope. But I’m tired of being ashamed of being me. I won’t be ashamed of being me.
You see, I’m a mother. A wife. A daughter. A sister. A cousin. An aunt. I’m someone’s friend. And I’m fat. I’m also chronically ill.
Just getting out of bed is a chore for me. Taking a bath, and having to wash my hair is exhausting. But like I said, I’m a wife, and a mother, and more. I HAVE to do these things, and so much more. I push through the pain and exhaustion and live my life, to the best of my ability.
I recently got a knock off pedometer thingy. I’m proud of myself for doing 2500 steps a day. Yeah, I know, most of you are happy to get 5,000, even 10,000, and that’s great for you. For someone who struggles to walk, taking 2,500 steps is HUGE for me.
And the days where I am so exhausted, I can barely make 1,500 steps, well I’m proud of that too. I’m proud because I’m trying.
Being fat isn’t a CHOICE. It happens. Believe it or not, before my son, and before all these illnesses, I was only 100 pounds.
My weight is a number. It doesn’t define me. Just like autism doesn’t define us. Or our illnesses don’t define us.
Do I want to be healthy? Hell yes! I WISH my immune system and my body could work together. I hate being sick. I hate having to tell my son I can’t play outside with him because I’m too ill. I spend my “good” days making up for the “bad” ones. Then, I do so much with my son, and around my house, that the next day will always be a “bad” day for me.
This is the life of chronic illness. This is the life of a fat person. So stop judging me. Stop judging others. (Also, saying, “She’s pretty, for a fat girl,” is super rude, so stop doing that too.)
All the fat people <3 <3