Tag Archives: body image

Happy Fat Girl

Last summer I lost 50 pounds. Then the weight loss stalled. Gradually I got more and more sick of all the calorie restrictions. Sometimes I want chip and dip followed by cake for dessert. So sue me.

Gradually I loosened my rules – and the weight began pouring back over me like caramel on a sundae (now I want a sundae).

At this point I am not sure what direction to take things. If I go back to strictness and self control I can go back to the weight I was and then lower. Wearing smaller clothes is nice. The way people treat you when you are thinner is great.

At the same time, I really enjoy food and I miss eating what I want when I want. My husband likes me this way and doesn’t want me to diet. I diet to please our small society, but I like food. My husband loves me at this weight. Who am I trying to please?

At this point I am really on the fence. I might start dieting strictly again – 1000 calories a day or less. Painting can provide a distraction again to keep my hands busy. I have been painting this whole time anyway, but I could alter my focus. Set daily goals. Just drink water.

But I really want coke and pizza right now, my husband wants me, and I am happy. Not sure what to do.

Body Love

My diet is getting harder and harder, although I am still pushing along. But one thing I’ve noticed is how much self love I have and body positivity. I think I look beautiful at this slimmer weight. I am curvy and happy even if I am chubby, and I like myself. I like what I see in the mirror. But when I weighed more I still liked myself and liked what I saw in the mirror. I simply didn’t like the fact that some dresses didn’t fit and it was getting harder to shop. But I have always loved my body and been okay with whatever weight I am at. And I actually think that makes dieting easier for me. I’m not trying to learn to love myself. There’s no pressure because I already do. And I don’t have emotions of guilt if I go over my calorie limit because I know that I am fine either way. I just try to stay strict to meet my goals, not because I feel less than worthy if I fail.

My husband has been happy with me at every weight that I have been since we have gotten married, and I have fluctuated wildly. If my husband is happy with me, then I am happy with me. The important thing is looking good for yourself and your spouse.

And of course as a woman I am supposed to be in competition with other women. But I’m really just not. If another woman looks good, and I think women of all shapes and sizes can look good, that I just appreciate the beauty and move on with my day. I don’t compare myself. And if I don’t think she looks good I don’t judge her, realizing that someone else will think that she looks gorgeous. I’m gorgeous and she’s gorgeous. But who’s going to recognize that in either one of us is a matter of personal taste.

I don’t compete with anyone. I am me, take it or leave it. Fat or thin. Or chubby, as is the case right now. I feel confident and happy with myself. I try to take care of myself and look good, but I am not concerned with the judgment of others. I just want to be happy and to look good for my husband, and I have been very lucky that he always thinks I am beautiful.

The Art of the Body

Bodies so surreal

so intricately designed.

I adore bodies –

from the spare perfection of

thin bodies –

so small as to break at a harsh gaze,

to big, bountiful bodies with rolls and curves

everywhere all the time

I am consumed by the art of the body,

the elegant thin arm outstretched,

the belly a pillow to rest on.

Necks like flower stems and tree trunks –

hair brilliant, glossy petals.


Melted and Poured

“You Look Melted and Poured”


I am melted and poured

into a sheath dress with lace overlay,

my scars making it look like a cookies and cream filling

has been poured to fit a sexy mold,

but with maybe 20 pounds too much filling –

the molding bursting at the seams.


Too often I have been too rich for my wallet

Too free for my cage

Too fat for my shell


But now I shimmy,

break open the mold

let the skin sing electric under a sunlight sick

of being filtered and blocked.


I am free.

In a bedroom deep in the jagged heat of Georgia

I am a queen and I need no molds,

cages will not hold me,

And my wallet is not the only language I speak.