"By reading your blog no one would ever know you're overweight. You write with such confidence."
This comment was made to me recently and I found it very interesting. I didn't find it offensive, nor do I believe that was the intent. It's interesting none the less.
Self-acceptance has been a long journey for me, as it as been for many Black women. Some women never reach their comfort zone. I'm not completely there, but I'm very close and better off than some. I've been fat/chubby/overweight/chunky my entire life. I used to hate me: my color, my fat, my nose and my hair. Absorbed in such self hatred, I'd never leave the house. I didn't want to be seen. I didn't want people to talk to me. Well, I still don't want people to talk to me cause most have proven to be jackasses, yet I digress.
I stumbled upon self discovery after I had my son, the product of volatility and deceit. Forfeiting my scholarship to art school was painful and facing raising a black male alone was even more so. I remember standing in the bathroom in front of the mirror trying to reduce the swelling in my lactating breasts. I looked up into the mirror and looked myself in the eye. That was the most difficult thing I've ever done, year-to-date. That was the first time ever I addressed and admitted to my fears, failures and hopes. That was the first time I'd ever seen the glimmer of beauty within me, the bit I had left after the abuse I inflicted upon myself and also allowed others to inflict upon me. I liked the way it looked and felt, so pure and innocent. I cut my tracks out and washed my hair, scrubbed it hard, in an attempt to wash away any self loathing that resided any where between the cornrows and thread. I was 19 years old.
Fast forward to 2k4. I'm 23, coming up on 24. Somewhere between Baby Daddy 2 and the Ubiquitous Married Lover, I came into my own. Married men are shit, however, I learned a lot from him. He allowed me to see everything I do and don't want in a man. That disgusting situation presented me with the reality of self worth. I took it, walked away and never looked back.
My weight, color or height does not define me. The label inside my shirt and purse do not define me. My character and integrity define me, which is something that can not be compromised, exchanged or refunded. I like the woman I've developed into thus far and look forward to completing my journey as a self-assured Black woman.
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» "Fat people have opinions too". from A Nerd's Haven: Everyday Thoughts
"Fat people have opinions too". Not a diatribe against discrimination of fat folks (although those are fun to read, too), but something so much better--an account of a woman's...... read more
tracked on May 18, 2004 9:44 AM
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