Thanksgiving is about a lot of things. It’s about family. And food. And drinks. Oh, the drinks. I don’t just mean blood family either. I usually spend the holidays, or at least Christmas with my best friend and her mom. This year I joined them for thanksgiving too. It was also with her new baby, their two roommates, and the roommates three kids ranging from 3-8.
The youngest, the 3 year old, is sweet as can be. But he’s also extremely honest. We were standing outside when he said the magic phrase. “Your body is big.”
Unclutch the pearls. He’s three. He’s honest. That’s what kids do. Especially at 3. Now, years ago, this would’ve ruined my whole holiday. I would’ve cried in the bathroom. I wouldn’t have eaten anything at dinner. I certainly wouldn’t have had any pie, and I love pie. You see, he’s right. I’m fat. Only now? I don’t think that’s such a bad thing. It’s a part of me. It’s who I am. I’m short. I frequently have blue/purple/pink/whatever hair. I’m also fat. This little boy saying my body was big made me realize how far I’ve come on my journey to self love.
Once upon a time I hated myself. I tried dieting. I tried just not eating. But then I realized the biggest thing I could do to improve myself, was love myself. I looked at him and I said “that’s true. It is big. Because bodies come in all different sizes.” His response? “Yup!”
What if I had told him not to say that? What if I had shushed him and told him not to comment on people’s bodies? I would be furthering there negative rhetoric that being fat is something to be ashamed of. I would’ve planted a seed in his mind that you’re not supposed to talk about weight. My journey to self love is not only about me. It’s about changing the minds of those around me. All bodies are beautiful, no matter their shape or size. And I’ll be damned if I teach a child that you should be ashamed of being fat.
I’m fat. And I love myself.
