Let’s wear our fat like a little black dress.

 

And it’s our favorite dress. We slip it on and feel beautiful, powerful; we’re not afraid to take up space.

 

We rock the dress. We rock the fat!

 

I’m an entertainer, and I’m fat. Get over it. Haters gonna hate. Shake it off.     

Valentine's Day 2015

Valentine's Day 2015

 

Easier said than done, but worth the work.

 

 

And I’m a work in progress!  I was probably born fat, but I can’t remember back that far and I’d feel really awkward asking my birth-mother, who put me up for adoption and only held me once after my birth. Don't hate, don't judge, she had her reasons.  It's all good. She and my birth-father and I have a pretty groovy relationship now, but that’s a story for another day.

 

Chubby-wubby at about 3, and already in love with the flowers...

Chubby-wubby at about 3, and already in love with the flowers...

Can’t ask the mom who adopted and raised me. Her name was Francis, and she passed away when I was 11. My dad (her husband Jim) died a couple of weeks before Christmas, when I was six.

 

They might have met me when I was a newborn, but dad had a heart attack right before my adoption, so I stayed in the orphanage till I was about 18 months old.

 

When I was still in the orphanage...

When I was still in the orphanage...

 

But without a doubt I was a chubby kid; lots of photos to attest to that.

 

My tall thin mom, who designed elegant dresses for equally tall thin models in her college art classes, was mystified by her chubby daughter.

 

She put me on my first diet when I was around 8 years old, maybe 9. We went to the Doctor for advice, and I remember him telling me I could eat a certain amount of calories per day, and I could use them up eating all ice cream if I wanted. The all-ice cream diet – that sounded pretty good to a kid!

 

And then he handed her a prescription for diet pills. My first diet included a script for speed.

 

This was my first concrete lesson in learning that part of the world disapproved of my appearance, and my appetite.

 

You have such a pretty face… that back-handed compliment that meant: if only you were thin. If only you were not FAT.

 

Because, apparently, FAT IS THE WORST THING YOU CAN BE. MOM WILL LOVE YOU MORE, BE PROUDER OF YOU, IF YOU’RE NOT FAT.

 

She liked that I was bright, intelligent, creative…but being FAT was a real problem.

I can’t say that she would have loved me more if I wasn’t FAT, but…to be honest, it’s something I’ve wondered about over the years.  It’s something I’ll explore here, too.

 

Dealing with my FAT, because other people don’t like it and have inspired me to feel ashamed about it over the years, has been rough.

 

Time to SHAKE IT OFF.  No more incredibly restrictive diets. No barbaric weight-loss operations.

 

I love food. So do lots of thin people. Sometimes I like exercise. Lots of thin people don’t.

 

It’s just fat!

 

I’ve been so inspired by young women who refuse to allow a thin-loving society dictate their senses of self-worth. I didn’t know how to be that woman when I was young.

 

But I’m learning now.

 

My motto, which I'll turn into a mantra here on FITNB: If you don't love me fat, you won't love me thin, so move on.

 

I thought maybe we could un-strap the seat belts, jump out of the airplane, live on the edge and just learn to ROCK THE FAT.

 

It's a french fry battle. Everyone wins! July 2015

It's a french fry battle. Everyone wins! July 2015


By the way, words like obese and overweight should be avoided. They suck. They’re mean, and stupid. Overweight implies that I’m not perfect the way I am, right here, right now.


I prefer to be perfect. Right here. Right now. 

And eat pizza sometimes.  Because pizza rocks.

So do you. So do I. 

So let's wear our FAT like a little black dress, and it's our favorite dress...let's ROCK THE FAT together!

Because...Fat Is The New Black.

 

I shared!!

I shared!!

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