The truth is this: I have accepted other people’s bodies. I have come to realize just how toxic sizeism is, and just how sizeist our society is. But I have never, ever accepted my body. Even though I now tell myself to stop when I start calling myself names like “fat pig” or telling myself that if only I were thin I’d be successful, happy, and loved. I still hate what I see in the mirror. Of course I have always hated it, even when I weighed a lot less. I had the dread “pear shape,” which I was told made me undesirable. I had been told that a woman is nothing if she is not desirable.
I don’t think I will ever like the way I look. I keep working on trying to hate it less.
I want to talk about something uncomfortable, something that I wonder if we all think about in the corners of our mind but dare not say out loud. This is not a simple question of “I’ve accepted my body, now what?” Rather, I find myself curious about what happens when elements of our identity must change. I’m afraid I have only questions and no answers.
In size diversity we talk about the importance of accepting who we are at the core of our being and all that entails whether it is our size, race or ethnicity, income, etc. But what happens once we are on this path and believe we have wholly accepted ourselves, only to change? What do you do as a size acceptance advocate when you begin at one size/shape, accept your body as it is, and morph into an entirely different size/shape? Perhaps…
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