Yesterday I stood in front of the mirror in my undies and took a good look. I don’t actually weigh any less, but I can feel and see a little difference. So that’s encouraging. But mostly I wanted to take a moment to appreciate myself. Give a little love to something that gets a lot of undeserved abuse and criticism. We spend so much time look at what’s wrong, I thought I’d look at what’s right.

And I’ll be damned but it works. I felt amazing for the rest of the day. Not only was I able to go about my day not worrying that I looked weird or what people might think about how I look, I actually imagined people might think the same positive things about me that I had just thought about myself that morning. It made socialising easier. It made being in my own skin not a chore. And it shoudn’t be.

Even when on a workout plan and doing the right eating and all of that, there’s still a bit of pressure to be better, fitter, leaner, to succeed succeed succeed. And that itself is conforming to a body standard that is dictated by society. As I’ve said before and as it stands now, the only reason for me to be smaller is aesthetic. My medical feedback is excellent. My body is healthy. If anything, my size is testament to the emotional stress I put myself through, the adrenal fatigue and the anxiety. When we can let go of expectations, both our own and those of a shitty superficial culture, we can let go of the worrying and the criticism and self loathing. Fat is not ugly. Fat is just fat. Ugly is ugly, and the judgement we place on ourselves and others is where that ugliness lives.

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October 2014 at 200 lbs.

I’m a stellar babe, people. There’s no “she’s fat but…” or “she’s cute for a fat girl” or “she has such a lovely face though”. I DID win a genetic lottery. I’m upright, I’m hardy and hale, I’m smart, and I take care of myself and my bizniss. THAT is what matters. Everything else is cake.

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