So I’m overweight. It’s not like I don’t look in the mirror and see it. My weight doesn’t hide itself like the mole on the back of my neck or the tattoo on my shoulder. It doesn’t get covered up with makeup like a zit on my chin. You can’t dye it a new color, cover it up with clothing, or avoid it at all.
I notice my weight when I’m laying down sleeping and I’m sitting at my desk and I’m walking and showering and getting dressed and driving in my car and anytime I catch a reflection of myself in the mirror. I am almost constantly conscious of it.
It doesn’t “bother” me though. I mean, sure, I’d rather be thin and beautiful, but I don’t think I’m not beautiful because I’m overweight. I think I’m overweight and attractive. I have a great smile, and my eyes are pretty, and my hair is healthy. I like the uniqueness of my nose, and the gap in my teeth that I used to hate. I think attached earlobes make me different, I have perfect toes, my skin is soft and creamy white. There are tons of things about me that are great.
What bothers me is that people treat me differently because I’m overweight. For example, there is this completely insane assumption that I do nothing but sit on my butt and stuff my face all day long. I probably eat a lot less than you think, and I know I eat a lot less than my friends who are far skinnier than I am. I also work very hard. I happen to work at jobs that have me seated more often than not, but that doesn’t mean I don’t and can’t move around. I work out.
The other assumption is that I’ve always been fat. Not true. I was in the military once and quite thin when I was. I was fit, I was thin, and I was happy.
Finally, the last assumption is that I’m miserable. Definitely not true. I think I lead a very full and fulfilling life. I am quite happy. I have a great boyfriend, a great daughter, great dogs, great family and friends. I work, go to school, enjoy music, love dancing, I’m very happy. Whenever I’m not happy, surprisingly, it has absolutely zero to do with my weight and usually has everything to do with my stress, or frustration, or sadness at whatever is going on. I can’t tell you the last time I looked in a mirror and was unhappy because I’m overweight. I don’t think it’s ever really happened.
So I would like to not so respectfully request that the people who think they should say something about my weight shut UP. I don’t want to hear it. Not only do I not care what your opinion is, it is extremely rude. I don’t walk up to you and say you should get Botox or that you should cut your hair or get a dye job. It’s funny, if I had a big wart on my nose would you be all “OMG why don’t you get rid of that wart?” Would you think I somehow caused it by sleeping on my face or something?
So shut up. I’m tired of your opinion. When I want your opinion on my weight, I’ll ask you. Until I say “Does this skin I have on make my butt look fat?” keep your opinion to yourself. It’s not wanted, needed, or nice.