I’m a bigger person. That’s not new. I’ve always been hefty, stocky, etc. but always with purpose. When I was younger it was baby fat. In high school it was chalked up to being a growing boy. College brought a series of “maturing” events - break-ups, the introduction of alcohol, etc. Shit happens, life comes at you fast.
But now, I’m a few years out of college, my body is no longer hormonal, my relationship status is stable (single AF) and yet I’m the heaviest I’ve ever been. Not necessarily the biggest or the most jiggly, but definitely the heaviest. But what’s crazy is that, I’ve also never been so content with my body. I mean yes I look good but that’s never been in question. Forgive me, but I’ve been a full fledged snack all my life, so me carrying weight well isn’t a surprise but for the first time, I’m not rushing to diet and hit the gym. But is that a good thing?
On some level, I’m happy that my body dysmorphia is under control but I can’t help but wonder…. Am I happy because I’ve grown to love myself? Is it that I’ve grown into my broad shoulders and thick thighs or am I content because I’d rather be me and on the couch than be a smaller me and have to go to the gym? Is this complacency actually just a side effect of a bigger issue… my laziness?
I mean I hate the gym. Getting up early isn’t the issue but it’s more so that I hate exerting energy. It feels like spending money on bills. Necessary, never ending and quite frankly, gross. That being said, I really do love working out. The adrenaline rush. The way my thighs look in running short and most importantly, my playlist. La Roux, vintage Gaga and all that Beyoncé puts me in a fantastic mood but I’m worried I might be growing a false sense of confidence. I’m not Beyoncé. I don’t have a man to love me through thick and thin and I don’t have 3 children to justify my “fupa”. Just my cornbread-fed culture, my love of good whiskey and a busy schedule.
As I sit here and type this out I’m realizing that I don’t actually know the reason, but also, I don’t really care. It may simply be that I’m becoming more comfortable with myself and my body. It could also be that I’m finally starting to accept that I am so much more than my pants size. Everything good about me and all the great experiences I have had in my life have happened in a myriad of body shapes and weights and I have never been a supermodel. And I think THAT’S what changed. Because I’m not some supermodel who gained weight after a slow season, I never fell from grace I simply shifted my priorities. But I haven’t “let myself go” I’ve just let myself be. Now, tomorrow I may want to be 20 pound lighter but as for today, I’m heavy, happy and a little peckish.