On being the fat one

No one can understand how it feels to be the only fat person in the room unless it happens to them. It sucks. We have been conditioned to think that fat people are different from everyone else. We automatically think they aren’t healthy, they are lazy, they want to be skinny.

The reality for me was that it took me a long time to figure out that I was fat. I haven’t always been overweight. It wasn't until I was growing out of clothes at an alarming rate and reaching my "never in a million years" pants size that realized I was actually a fat person. It was really shocking. I handled it like so many women who feel fat, I cried. And cried and cried and cried. And then I joined Weight Watchers. When my doctor asked me if I was trying to lose weight (after an absolutely perfect physical, by the way) I answered “yes” with pride.

This is not an Oprah success story. It sucked. Dieting made me miserable. I hated myself even more for wanting pizza. I’d save up all my points so I could splurge on a steak. I would break down and buy a cupcake and then cry about it. I was losing weight but at what cost? How was I supposed to live my life like this?

I had a choice. I could continue to be unhappy or I could accept who I am. I chose the latter. The thing is, we get to control how we feel about ourselves. We get to decide if we look in the mirror and love what we see or we hate it. Eleanor Roosevelt is credited with saying, “No one can make you feel inferior without your consent.” She’s right. They can’t. I get to decide how inferior I feel. I am in complete control of determining my emotions.

I didn’t come to this conclusion alone. I came to this conclusion after dedicating myself to a consistent power yoga practice (months after abandoning Weight Watchers). After a few weeks of sweating my way though sun salutations, core exercises and attempting arm balances, I came to a conclusion: I was awesome. I was strong. I felt amazing!

I don’t know exactly when, but I decided that I wasn’t going to let food ruin my life. I was going to eat what made me feel good, what gave me energy. I know what is good for me and what isn’t. I’ll be honest; I ate like 6 cookies yesterday. I didn’t regret it. I accepted that it happened, had a terribly sour stomach, and moved on with my day. Dwelling on having a weak moment with food is not going to make my relationship with it any better. As long as I’m staying healthy and happy, that is really all that matters.