sometimes i inhale my lunch.

Lately I have been hearing quite a bit of negative talk surrounding people who are overweight – specifically women. I know that this kind of talk is everywhere. It invades every aspect of our lives. I just find myself particularly aware of it as of recent.

That’s probably because I’m beginning to develop my own little pooch belly – a white chocolate macadamia cupcake belly, if you will – but that’s beside the point.

The point here is that I just want to tell everyone to shut the heck up!!

Maybe I’m more aware lately, because I know that I have been lazy with my workouts (read: not working out at all unless you count trucking up and down to my 3rd floor apartment) and I know that I have been giving in to little indulgences more often than not. But in general, I think people carrying a little extra get knocked down way too often.

Maybe because I have been there. Yes, hello, my name is Emily and I was a fat girl!!

In truth, I still feel like a fat girl more often than not. These days, I’m at a healthy weight, with an active lifestyle. I’m happier than I have ever been. But I am still uncomfortable wearing two-piece swimsuits and I still feel like I need to order rabbit food when I’m out in public so as not to confirm the stereotype that heavy people eat bad things. I still struggle every. single day.

And I think back to when I was at my worst moments and the things that stick out the most are the hurtful things people said to me; the hurtful comparisons made between my size 12 baby-makin’ hips (yes, someone referred to them that way when I was in highschool – what the hell, right?) and another girl’s cross-country runner body. Every time this happened, there was just one thing I thought: I don’t need this.

Right now, I just don’t need this. Not at this particular moment. Not today. Not ever. I do not need you to criticize me, to make me feel bad in order to motivate me to hit the gym, to wish that I would look the way you want me to look. I need you to shut the heck up about it. I need you to pretend there is nothing different about me, nothing wrong with me.

And I’ll be honest, it wasn’t until I hit my wise old age of 22 that I realized something: there really is nothing wrong with me.

So what if I just inhaled a giant bowl of creamy butternut squash soup with a giant multigrain roll on the side? So what if half the reason I love baking so much is simply for the raw cookie dough? So what if some days I don’t change out of my yoga pants and I scoop peanut butter straight from the jar and I watch reruns of Cupcake Wars and Say Yes to the Dress all day? So what?

I wish I could sit down every person I pass on the street that looks just like I did – scared of his or her own shadow – and tell them this. You are perfect the way you are. You deserve to be happy because you are YOU. You have a million and two amazing things about you, and the world needs those things, regardless. Whether you are six feet tall or four feet short. Whether you wear heels and skirts or jeans and dirty sneakers. Whether you play sports or video games or make a life putting together 1,000 piece puzzles. Regardless.

I wish that when I was a bit younger, someone had done this for me. Anyone really. A stranger on the street, even. I wish someone had told me I was okay, and that one day I would believe it for myself.

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September 28, 2012. tidbits.

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