I'm not chubby. I'm not plump, zaftig, Rubenesque, full-figured, thick, a "woman of size," or anything else you might think of as a synonym for the three letter word FAT.
In our culture, it's generally frowned upon to be fat, much less to acknowledge it. After all, we live in a capitalist, consumer-driven society in which food is plentiful. In agricultural societies, or where food is scarce, fat is seen as a sign of wealth, of abundance. But the fact is, we don't live in those cultures.
I wish I could say that knowing that, I have made my peace with being fat. I have not. I hate being fat. I hate the way people stare at me--or don't. I hate that I think people are examining everything on my plate. I hate the Food Police, mostly because they only exist inside my head. I hate looking at pictures of myself and cringing. I hate that I "let myself" get to this weight without even realizing it. I hate having hope for a thinner tomorrow, yet it's so reassuring to think of the possibility that some day, I might not be fat.
I realize that the only person who can make me not fat is me, and I also realize that without making peace with my body, I will never be comfortable in it or happy with it, regardless of the number that appears on the scale. Realizing that and making it happen, however, are two different things.
