I don’t exactly know how to say this, but there’s something on my mind that’s been bugging me:
There are a lot of people in the bloggesphere taking on body image and how big/fat/heavy people are beautiful too. And while I ‘get’ the Big is Beautiful and Love Yourself How You Are campaign, I’m gonna tell ya that I am flat out ashamed of how my body looks.
Do you know why? It isn’t because I feel like I should look like a super model – I don’t. It isn’t because cute clothes aren’t made in my size – they are. It isn’t because my husband tells me I’m ugly – He tells me I’m beautiful every day.
I’m ashamed because my 50ish extra pounds are visible signs of the stops I make at fast food restaurants between lunch and dinner. Those pounds show the world the extra helpings of food I take. My weight is proof of the many glasses of wine I drink at night. You look at me and you know I have double snacks between meals and I eat while I’m cooking.
I’m not fat because of a medical condition. I’m not fat because of the occasional ‘guilty pleasure’ meal. I’m fat because I medicate myself with food.
Audrey Hepburn once said, “I believe that happy girls are the prettiest girls.”
I feel like when you look at me, you can see my demons – and that’s not pretty.
P.S. In NO way am I saying that people who are fat (like me) are ugly. This post is only a reflection of myself and my own challenges self-medicating with food.