The Fat One
People want to be the chosen one, to be unique, to be different, but they never want to be fat. I learned that at an early age. Fat people bring shame to the world, or so I thought. Fat people should never eat in public, or so I thought. Fat people should never wear stripes, or so I thought.
It took me nearly 30 years to get accustomed to being fat. Or maybe 29 years and a half.
I am fat. I tell everyone now, not all the time, just when the occasion presents itself. Not that they can't tell, but it helps them break the barrier. I get the expected response of "no, you're just curvy". I am overweight, hence fat.
There are a lot of connotations that come with being fat. Mostly, negative ones. I spent 29 years (and a half) struggling with those connotations. I have always wanted to be thin. Not anymore. I stopped caring about what my silhouette looks like, and instead, I care about how I feel and what I think.
As a woman, it's so hard to let go of the image you are supposed to be; an image drawn by society and reaffirmed by people around you even though most of us fail to conform to it.
I do yoga. My interest in yoga started at the fresh age of 13, when I happened upon a book explaining it. It was a tiny guide with all the different poses. I started practicing out of curiosity and soon it became an actual interest. Throughout the years, my practice faltered and renewed several times. I am finally at a place where I am practicing regularly, and it's one of the few habits I intend on continuing.
I see people, sometimes, looking at me during class. They look at me as if I shouldn't be there. They look at me in a defiant way; wonder how good is that fat person. Sometimes, I see it in the eyes of some instructors. Sometimes, whenever we are in the mid of a difficult pose, I see them looking at me, wondering when I will fall. They look at me for permission to falter. If the fat person is still going on, so should I. I see you, and I see it, and I see my spirit, floating around.
In the past, I would have been offended, now I see it as a way to inspire people. If the fat person can do it, you can too.
It took me nearly 30 years to get accustomed to being fat. Or maybe 29 years and a half.
I am fat. I tell everyone now, not all the time, just when the occasion presents itself. Not that they can't tell, but it helps them break the barrier. I get the expected response of "no, you're just curvy". I am overweight, hence fat.
There are a lot of connotations that come with being fat. Mostly, negative ones. I spent 29 years (and a half) struggling with those connotations. I have always wanted to be thin. Not anymore. I stopped caring about what my silhouette looks like, and instead, I care about how I feel and what I think.
As a woman, it's so hard to let go of the image you are supposed to be; an image drawn by society and reaffirmed by people around you even though most of us fail to conform to it.
I do yoga. My interest in yoga started at the fresh age of 13, when I happened upon a book explaining it. It was a tiny guide with all the different poses. I started practicing out of curiosity and soon it became an actual interest. Throughout the years, my practice faltered and renewed several times. I am finally at a place where I am practicing regularly, and it's one of the few habits I intend on continuing.
I see people, sometimes, looking at me during class. They look at me as if I shouldn't be there. They look at me in a defiant way; wonder how good is that fat person. Sometimes, I see it in the eyes of some instructors. Sometimes, whenever we are in the mid of a difficult pose, I see them looking at me, wondering when I will fall. They look at me for permission to falter. If the fat person is still going on, so should I. I see you, and I see it, and I see my spirit, floating around.
In the past, I would have been offended, now I see it as a way to inspire people. If the fat person can do it, you can too.
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