I don’t remember a time in my life when I wasn’t at least a little chunky. Looking back at pictures from my childhood, I was always somewhat pudgy and frumpy and what were considered cute little “Michelin Man” fat rolls on my legs as a baby developed into not so cute, short, stubby legs as a preteen. Unfortunately, as I got older, I never really grew out of the pudgy, frumpy body and being overweight is something I’ve struggled with for 27 years now. I’ve never in me entire life been comfortable in a swimsuit. In fact, I pride myself in being able to avoid all situations that would require a swimsuit and, let’s be real, shorts aren’t even an option on most days. I don’t wear sleeveless shirts because my arms look like sausages crammed inside plastic wrapping and my midsection is the reason maxi dresses and flowy tops were invented. I know what you’re probably thinking–that I don’t exercise or eat right and that “abs are made in the kitchen,” and hard work and dedication would render the slim, fit body that I crave. And to a point, you’re right. I don’t always eat right. I have cheat days. And I really don’t work out as much as I should. But I am very active. I run. I keep my calories at 1200 or less (usually less) every day and I try, for the most part, to eat fairly clean. I’ve developed such a hate towards mirrors. When I wash my hands, you can rest assured that I will not look in the mirror in front of me. I hate catching my reflection in a window and the fear of people judging my body is something that nags at my mind almost always. I try to avoid people who are thin and in great shape because I fear they think of me as a lesser being.
Anyway, I guess I’m just having one of those days. But aren’t we all entitled to one of those every now and then?