(This image of me was taken in a photo booth at Mercedes Benz Fashion Week in New York, when I was reporting on a fashion show for Allie is Wired. I was easily one of the fattest women anywhere in the tents that day, and I think I looked AMAZING. I really love my outfit, which was completely non-designer cheap ass H&M stuff except for the Coach bag, which was a gift. I have no money.)
Whenever anyone asks me if I’ve lost weight, a lot of times I say no, or “I don’t think so,” or in the past I’ve said, “Thank You.”
The truth is, I really don’t know, but I suspect not- I rarely weigh myself- and I don’t even trust scales anyway. The same clothes have fit me for years, with a brief interlude where I was pregnant. I was chubby before I got pregnant. I only gained 30 pounds when I was pregnant and lost most of it in a few weeks after pregnancy, probably because my daughter breastfed constantly day and night. It certainly wasn’t exercise or a juice cleanse.
Other than that I’ve worn a size 14 jean for years and usually an XL in dresses and tops. I’ve stayed a 38DD bra size, a size 8 bikini underwear, a size 7 shoe, except for sneakers which are 7.5.
I don’t sweat my weight. I feel beautiful and hot. I never diet (it’s a huge scam) and I eat what I want and I dress how I want and I exercise when and how I want. I am 100% in charge of my body. I have no real health issues (seasonal allergies?).
I don’t give a damn what anyone else thinks about my weight, and I am proud and happy to call myself fat, not in a self-deprecating way, but just because I am and that’s ok. Of course, I didn’t always feel that way. (I’m a woman on Earth). I used to really hate myself, a lot, and my number one target of my self-hatred was my body. I would beat myself up over it. I starved myself trying to fix it. I let myself wallow in misery and depression and compared myself to thinner girls and really let every mean thing I’d ever heard about how women need to be thin in order to be beautiful or loved or human into my brain and poison it.
As soon as I stopped doing that, I actually lost weight. This is true. The last time I lost weight, was several years ago when I gave up on dieting. I went from a 16/18 to a size 14. Or maybe I didn’t, because I stopped weighing myself, so how the hell do I know? I think I did, but maybe I just let myself wear size 14 clothes because I wanted to wear tight clothes and stop being invisible. Maybe I was never a size 16/18 but that’s just how I saw myself. I honestly don’t know, but that’s what happened.
The decision that being fat was by far, the least of my worries as a woman, changed me forever. Kindness, respect, dignity, intelligence, and confidence became my only goals, WAY above outer beauty. Being thin is not a moral obligation and it is not an achievement and it does not bring peace into your life, so I quit trying to attain it.
Coincidentally, my only spiral back into a place of shame and food issues and all that glorious bullshit associated with the pressure to be thin, was when I was pregnant, and for a while after I had my daughter, which is a whole other chapter in my story, and I have been clawing my way out of that pit for some time now to tell it, and I will soon, now that I am finally feeling the light and the joy again of not giving a crap about my weight.
There is a lot more that I have to say about this, but let me get back to my original point. After this big decision to give myself permission just to breathe and live and not worry about my weight, I got asked this question a lot, and I still get asked this question ALL. THE. TIME.
Whenever I am looking really good (maybe I am wearing clothes I didn’t used to dare wear or people think I “shouldn’t” wear because of my size and pulling them off or maybe I am just feeling good, feeling happy and feeling confident) people ask me if I have lost weight. They mean it as a compliment, sort of. They mean “You look beautiful. The only way to be beautiful is to be thin. Therefore, you must have lost weight.”
Maybe they’re being sincere. Maybe they think that’s what I want to hear. Maybe they don’t mean it at all, but they just want to say something nice and they think implying that I have lost weight is nice, because I’m not thin, so that must be my greatest desire and success. I don’t know, but it is probably the most common “compliment” I get. What a passive aggresive af compliment that is, right? I can just hear Lucille Bluth saying it with a painfully phony grin plastered on her face.
My answer going forward has to be that, absolutely, I have lost the weight of fear, shame and depression. I have lost my obsession with striving to be thin. I have certainly lost a lot of my pain. That’s what happens when you reject what you know in your heart to be a lie. You become free.
So you can stop asking me that. You can just tell me how beautiful I look or even, don’t worry about how I look at all, or how any women look. You can let that one go, and if you’d like to know any of my secrets to achieving joy and purpose and happiness, I’m happy to share.