Why This Fatty Has No Interest In Losing Weight

Why This Fatty Has No Interest In Losing Weight

So, I’m fat. Don’t be mad, I’m not. Really. I’m actually mostly comfortable with the way fat distributes itself on my body. I’m well proportioned as they say, I have one of those hourglass figures going on and it works for me. I look in the mirror and I like what I see. I’m not overwhelmed with disgust at the thought- let alone sight of my naked self. I made a vow to myself one day, to just love me as I am at any given moment and I honour that at all times.

Why did I do that and what does it mean to me?

Why… because when I looked back at several years worth of young Tia’s journals, writings and musings… I noticed a terrifying pattern. I hated myself. Every New Years my resolutions were the same- diet, exercise, lose weight. But here’s the thing… I was never successful at any of those things. And here’s the other thing… looking back at pictures that correlate to the dates of these writings. I was not fat. Not at all. Not at any point when I hated myself for being incapable of maintaining impossible societal standards… was I actually fat. I wasted all those years having a super hot body… on feeling insecure and doubting myself.

So what does loving my fat ass unconditionally mean to me? It means that I don’t need to “fix” my body, I need to fix my mind to exist in the body I have so I’m not waiting for future skinny Tia to enjoy the now. It means that I don’t want to prescribe to a temporary weight loss solution that will only help me lose weight, which I will put back on immediately upon ceasing to prescribe to said program. I want to build habits that are sustainable for a lifetime… and that shit is hard.

Sometimes I’m better at it than others, sometimes there are barriers to it that seem insurmountable – illness, medications, things that may or may not be within my control. I can’t take the time and energy to hate myself in the now, or wait for me to be succeeding at losing weight to be happy.

I exercise, on a fairly regular basis over the years. My goal with that is to keep my fat ass comfortable. To exist comfortably in my own skin I need to be physically fit. I need to be able to walk up stairs and not get winded. I need to be able to chase other peoples kids around so I can eat them. And I need the mental clarity that exercise gives you.

If my goal was to “lose weight” I may never have completed two triathlons, after training consistently for at least a year with no discernible weight loss. If my goal was to “lose weight” I might have missed out on a summer of daily 5 or 10k walks with my best friend that produced no change on the scale, but surely got me through one of the worst break ups of my adult life. When my goal was to lose weight, anything short of that felt like a failure. When my goal was to love myself no matter what, being a fat athlete felt pretty good.

I’ve been depressed for the last two years. I went from wanting to be active to unable to get off the couch. I went from a full and vibrant life to medication changes and a never ending set of blah. This has led to weight gain, and discomfort. Which leads me back to exercise. For health. And comfort.

Do I want to lose weight? Sure, I certainly don’t not want to. Am I willing to create a lifestyle that is conducive to that, and also likely to result in long term success. Yes. Will I hate my body until it’s “perfect” in the meantime? No fucking way. My body IS perfect just the way it is. The picture I’ve featured in this post is one of my all time favs… and also the heaviest I’ve ever been.

I want to be healthy, and active because I know that’s what makes me happy. I want to eat food that is good and provides my body the nutrients it needs to function effectively, because I know that feels good which in turn makes me happy. Trying to lose weight has never in the history of my life been successful… or made me happy… so I’ve given that up in favour loving myself no matter what and I feel lighter than ever.