- 8 years ago
- Wedding: September 2011
So being a plus size girl all of my adult life I have grown tired of women who complain about being full figured. If it bothers you that much do something about it! And trying to figure out ways to hide it is not doing something. You have to love yourself (every inch, roll, crease that will not fit into that size 10) In my life as a woman, I’ve been told again and again about the things I cannot do because of my body. I’ve been told by society, “You’re fat, you can’t be successful, you can’t make a good impression, you can’t win a lover or be attractive.” I’ve been told by family and friends, “You’re fat, you can’t be happy, you can’t be healthy, you can’t really care about yourself and let yourself look like that.” And I have listened to a long list of cant’s that are continually recited to me: I’m fat, I can’t wear a bathing suit, I can’t dance in front of strangers at a club, I can’t go to an exercise class with all the normal’ size people, I can’t eat in public, fly in an airplane without embarrassment, leave the lights on when I make love” and on and on and on. Whether it was a rude remark from a passing stranger, a “for-your-own-good” remark from someone who cared about me, or a self-defeating remark from the obnoxious but persistent little voice in my head, the message was clear: there are a million things you can’t do because of your body. And I believed it, believed that my big body was one big negative, one big “can’t.” So I didn’t. But I’m finding, as my mind and spirit grow in size to match the rest of me, that my body is a miracle, a blessing, a long list of “cans” and “yeses” and “of courses.” The things my body can do are so complex, so delightful, that the cant’s pale in comparison. So I’m tucking my list of limiting cant’s away and deciding, instead, to celebrate my body’s capabilities, the wonderful, unique abilities that make it truly marvelous, truly me. My body has the extraordinary ability to sing. Singing is a gift without measure, a pleasure I can share with others while it feeds my soul. My thick, powerful legs provide a firm foundation for the sound. My full, round belly houses my diaphragm, that miraculous muscle that lets me fill my lungs with air and control my breath. In my plump neck reside the tiny muscles of my larynx, which produce thrilling sounds, soulful sounds, moving sounds. My fleshy arms embrace the emotion of the music with graceful gestures, and my round face expresses the hidden meaning of the song behind the words. Not every body can do that. My body can. My body can move with the majestic grace of the ocean. In action, it is rippling, flowing, circular, and beautiful. My moving body is all that is feminine personified. Soft roundness concealing strength, wide curves and planes moving together in harmony, a large, regal presence that dances in its rightful space with light and life, that gets noticed, commands attention, sweeps into a room with dignity and style. My body in motion deserves to be recognized as artful. My fat body in motion deserves praise. My body can give great hugs. The wide encompassing span of my compassionate arms, the generous capacity of my breasts receives and embraces others willingly and fully. I know a young girl, gawky and beautiful in the way of preadolescents. One day, in a burst of excitement and enthusiasm about something we were discussing, she spontaneously wrapped her arms around my waist, and I returned her hug warmly. “Oh!” she said in surprise, pulling away slightly and looking up at my face with a wondrous smile on hers. “You’re so soft!” I gathered her even closer, rejoicing in the fact that my body can give comfort and nurture. My body is a harbor. My body is a safe haven. My body can receive and respond joyously to a lover. It offers a lush landscape of sensual ripeness, curves and bends and nooks and crannies that beg to be explored and adored. Because of its abundance, there are more textures to savor, and more areas to caress and receive caresses, and there is a more exquisitely sensitive expanse to react to a lover’s touch. My wide hips buoy and support a partner. My soft thighs hold my partner close to my heat. My pliant, satiny, sweetly cushioned body arouses and is delightfully, fiercely aroused. While making love, so many of the things my body can do come together. In love, as in life, my body moves, sings, embraces. But most important, my body can laugh. Truly laugh, from the inside out. I bounce on my big buttocks, my squishy stomach jiggles, my full breasts jangle, my soft shoulders heave, time to my guffaws, and riotous tears roll down my full, red cheeks. How can a body laughing be anything but beautiful? There are, of course, hundreds and hundreds of other things my body can do, from the grand (my ability to command attention from an audience simply by walking straight and proud and tall) to the humorously banal (my ability to sit on a hard chair for prolonged periods of time without getting uncomfortable bone bruises). Maybe my body will never be able to do a cartwheel, squeeze into a straight skirt, or fit into some of the tighter spaces society offers it. I know there will always be some cant’s for my body, just as there are some cant’s for every body. However, I’ve made the choice to rejoice in the things my body can do, rather than dwell on the inconsequential cant’s, and I am dedicated to discovering and recognizing more of my body’s special gifts, large and small, each and every day. My body can be a source of strength, of delight, of wonderment, merriment, excitement, and awe. My body already is all of these things. My body is me. This is for everyone who has judged me not knowing who I am. For everyone who has laughed at me or said nasty things about me you will not defeat me!
This should be the way we think. How are we to see ourselves in the mirrior at the end of the day when we are always looking through everyone elses eyes! Be proud of who you are and love who you are for better or worse!