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I Feel, Therefore I Snack
An examination of what I put in, and what comes out of, my mouth
I am not really a Lizzo fan, but I owe her a debt of gratitude for (excuse the pun) taking the weight of a much-needed public discourse on fat shaming and body positivity last year.
Not gonna rehash all of the egregious commentary here, other than to say that opinions are like assholes, and often emerge from them.
A combination of slightly-reformed eating habits and illness contributed to a 60-or-so pound shed for me between 2018 and today. And I’ve got to be honest: I welcomed it. As I shared in this Medium post, I wasn’t nearly as concerned about it as my friends were.
Why?
Because if you’ve been heavier than most of your friends for most of your life, I’d wager a bet that eventually you come to a point when you are DONE with being “the fat chick” in the crew. I don’t care how many times you shake your ample bottom to the club jam “Watch Out For The Big Girl.” In our private moments, we long for people to come up with an overarching adjective to describe us that makes absolutely no reference to our size. Can I be brilliant? Talented? Insightful? Sexy, even?
With a period on the end of the statement.
