On being fat and happy

I want to make something pretty clear upfront: I know I am not fat. I don’t worry that I’m fat or getting fat. So spare the “you’re so pretty!” “You’re not fat, you’re perfect!” comments, please.

Thank you.

I’ve been thinking about the concepts of weight and beauty lately—especially when it comes to women and what we as a society think women should look like.

Many women waste away their lives absolutely convinced that if they were thinner, had better clothes, bigger boobs, a darker tan, lighter skin, didn’t have freckles/acne/a double chin/big hips/scars, etc., etc., etc. they’d be happier and more confident.

Well, let me let you in on a little secret: that’s bull.

I know a lot of people say that and it can be hard to believe, especially when beautiful famous people (like Sophia Bush) say it. But I am here to tell you that I know that it’s true.

At my lowest weight I was 130 lbs., at my heaviest, 186 lbs. For reference look below. (Now I recognize that 186 lbs. isn’t obese or anything, but it is overweight for my body type according to a lot of medical definitions.)

I have had perfect, lilywhite porcelain skin and I’ve coped with rampant cystic acne, which has left me with scarring only Seal could properly sympathize with.

I’ve had money for beautiful clothes and I’ve been known to rock three of the same men’s t-shirt in different colors every day of the week, with the same pair of worn out jeans and tennies. And I've teetered between the two states frequently. 

I’ve had a rockin’ fit bod and I’ve looked (still do) ice-cream-for-breakfast-everyday sloppy.

I’m here to tell you that I’ve felt just as beautiful, sexy, cute and healthy at 186 lbs. with cystic acne as I did at any other weight and skin-healthiness. And I have felt just as gross, fat, bloated and ugly at 130 lbs. with perfect skin as I have at any other weight/skin grossness phase.

Do I have my insecurities? Sure. Do I occasionally wish to not have a yo-yo issue with my weight and skin? Of course. But at the end of the day, I'm not sure there is really that much of a difference. I still get asked out on dates. My friends and family love me either way. People still laugh at my jokes and roll their eyes at my feminist rants. I can still run a mile in under 10 minutes. Life isn't all that different between 130 and 186 pounds. 

Feeling good about yourself is a state of mind. You can literally be at your physical worst and experience moments of unparalleled confidence and you can be at your physical pique and feel like staying in bed all day.

Looking how you think the world expects you to look doesn’t matter nearly as much as you likely think it does. And looking a mess also doesn’t matter nearly as much as you worry that it does.

Happiness is fleeting. Enjoy it when it comes; invite it in even. But contentment and satisfaction with who you are and what you look like is all mental. It’s up to you.