In the age we live in, it’s hard to be a fat person. We’re taught early on that we’re not as good as our skinnier, more attractive classmates, we’re judged by the clothes we can, or can’t, fit into, and so forth. Though this sounds like normal school antics, they don’t stop once you graduate. We’re pumped full of diet commercials, modeling catalogs, as if the media is just screaming “Look what you’ll never be.” Most of the times if you see a fat person in a movie, they are the butt of the joke.
It’s not always been this way, however. Back in the 50’s and 60’s they pushed advertisements stating how horrible of an insult it was to be called “skinny”. Skinny meant poor, unhealthy, etc. All the things you did not want to be in the 50’s.
Don’t believe me?
We see so many beautiful women from that particular era, it makes you almost miss it. Especially if you’re a fat person.
Sometimes it still bothers me that I’m not thin, and I never will be. Sometimes I look at myself in the mirror and think “Wow… No wonder everyone thinks I’m ugly.” And believe me, you can call a fat person whatever you’d like, but no one can insult us like ourselves. We’ve called ourselves every name in the book.
I’m so envious of these bigger women that are so comfortable in their own skin. They believe they are the most beautiful, and sexiest, women to ever grace the earth, and they are sometimes upwards of 300 lbs or better. I wish I had that confidence, that high self esteem. I don’t think I ever will. I’m always conscious about how I walk, how I breathe, and–sadly–people’s opinions of me.
I’ve always been a big girl, and when I became pregnant with my daughter I got even bigger. Like most moms, I’m struggling to get the weight back off and it seems like no matter what I do I cannot make it go away.
Today, however, is mother’s day. I was outside pushing my daughter on her swing and she was just laughing and having a great time. In the midst of her giggles, I started thinking to myself…You know…. My daughter has never judged me. In her eyes, I am her mother, and to quote a well known saying “Mother is the name for God on the lips and hearts of all children.” She doesn’t know such prejudices, she doesn’t understand the differences between fat and skinny. She sees me for me.
Hell, in her mind, she probably prefers me fat. And here’s why:
- Way more mommy to snuggle:
I’m soft, cuddly, and squishy. Just what all babies adore!
- When she’s swinging, she can kick a very soft belly instead of a pair of hands to help her learn how to swing properly
- When she blows raspberries on my tummy, she gets more pffbbfbgbfbfbffbfbft for her buck!
- She’ll always be able to outrun me. Lol!
My daughter loves me for who I am, and what I do for her, not the size of my trousers. I think I draw more strength from that than I do anything else. It’s time for me to push the negativity that surrounds me from the people who do not know me, or hardly know me, and focus purely on her opinion. At least, for the time being.
As a side note, I’d like to wish all the mothers out there a Happy Mother’s Day!!