Accepting and Loving My New Fatter, Happier Self

The newer, fatter me. Never been fatter, never been happier. In my life.

I wear my belly like a badge of honor. And no, not because of birth. (But, ok, that does contribute to my belly.)

In a world that says weight and size are a determiner of your worth, I say no.

Currently, I weigh the most I ever have in my life.
And I'm proud of that.

Most of my weight is centered in my belly.

I get people asking me if I'm pregnant, "God bless your baby"s and questions of when I'm due. I usually tell people 'Not pregnant, just fat' and when they get all mortified I tell them that I'm not bothered by it, I know I look pregnant (diastasis recti and my fat contribute) but I tell them to please not make comments about other people's "pregnancy" because it's a very sensitive topic for many people.

So why would I be proud of this belly of mine?

Well, let me just say that even when I was my skinniest, I always had a belly. Even as a young underweight child, my belly protruded. I was chastised for it, told that I'm not working hard enough to tighten my abdominal muscles, and I strengthened them and tightened them and it still protruded.
Most likely bloat caused by my undiagnosed gluten intolerance.

Then I gained weight when I reached puberty, lost it when I was pregnant, but post pregnancy my belly stuck out despite my lower weight, as my abdominal walls separated when pregnant.

My weight went up and down over a few years and pregnancy, but the one constant- always looking pregnant.


And then once my daughter Rose was born, as I threw up the least in her pregnancy, and gained the most weight, I weighed the most I had in my life until that point. Having internalized the fatphobia I'd experienced my entire life until that point, I was stressed out and worried and thought I looked ugly, and decided to try to lose weight.
I went on a pretty strict diet, first paleo, and then low carb paleo, and slowly but surely, I lost the weight.

But I learned something after the fact. Diets aren't sustainable. First there's the fact that deprivation causes negative side effects, and the likelihood of being able to stick with a diet long term is really low, statistically. Even if its a "lifestyle change" because even "lifestyle changes" take a lot of work and entail a lot of sacrifice.
Then there's also the fact that you can do your diet "perfect" and still gain weight, or stop losing. Because dieting changes your metabolism. Even though I was doing low carb paleo perfectly, my weight loss stalled, and then I started gaining weight again.

At the time when my weight was the lowest, my mental health was also the worst.

Guess what?

There's studies that show that diets can negatively affect your mental health.

I started going on meds to improve my mental health, because I was in a really rough situation, and one of the side effects of the meds was weight gain.

I know people that, when they get this side effect, decide to stop the meds, because they'd rather feel terribly emotionally, as long as they "look good", or rather, what society tells you looks good.

I chose not to. I chose to stick with the meds, even though I was gaining weight.

But I tried to go lower carb, thinking that at least I'd be able to stop the weight gain.

And I had the worst time of my life. Cutting back carbs caused me such bad emotional health issues, ones that had physical repercussions. To the extent that my psychiatrist basically banned me from going low carb.
Banned me from dieting.

And my religion, that has certain fast days? I was banned from that too. Because my mental health cannot handle starvation or even limiting my carbs.

So I gained weight. And more weight. And more weight.

And I made the choice.

I would rather be fatter and feel good about myself, be in an mentally and emotionally stable place, on meds, than off meds and skinnier.

So many people sacrifice their health, both mental, and physical, on the alter of "looking good". But I made the choice that I come first.
That my mental health comes first.
That I need meds.
That any form of dieting is really bad for my mental health.

So then I decided that I would exercise. Go running. Because if I couldn't lose weight by dieting, I'd at least try to exercise the pounds away.

But that didn't work either.

I couldn't fit running into my routine. That when I tried running, it caused me bad panic attacks. And I was in pain in my feet and my pelvis.

So I decided not to do that.

And I decided to accept my body as is. And not try to change it.

My weight went up and up and up.

I decided to toss my bathroom scale.

I learned about the concept of Health at Any Size, how detrimental intentional weight loss can be, that weight does not cause health issues, but rather that many health issues go hand in hand with weight gain (that they are correlative, not causative), and that if you just leave "weight" alone and focused on intuitive eating, your body will find its comfortable size, where you don't have to make an effort to lose or maintain weight, but you'll also stay the same weight.

My body reached that. I eat exactly the same way as I have the last two years. And while I no longer have a scale, out of curiosity I did decide to peak at my weight using the scale in the doctors' office, and it has stayed consistent, so it reassured me even more. (Though staying consistent in my new clothing style helped.)

I made sure to not subconsciously or consciously punish myself for the weight by holding on to clothing that no longer fit me "in case it fits me again one day" and instead made sure to buy clothing that fits me well and that are comfortable and are pretty.

I no longer try to hide my belly by wearing only loose drapey things (though I sometimes do, because they are comfortable).

And if my belly sticks out, and if I look pregnant, and get comments?

That's all right. I've had 4 kids. Pregnancy changes a body. And my belly is my badge of honor, my constant reminder that I've put myself and my mental health first, that I'm treating my body like the temple it is, giving it the care and the nourishment and the meds it deserves, and I've decided to stop trying to shape or hide my body to please other people.

As for exercise?

One day.

But when I do, I'll be exercising as a celebration of what my body can do, and not as a punishment for what I ate. I plan on starting to go to Zumba, or some other dance lessons, because I love moving my body to a beat and want to learn more moves. And because good exercise does give me an endorphin run. I joined a Facebook group for exercise that is very health at every size oriented, where people give encouragement and tips to fat people exercising, without the weight loss incentive, and it is really motivating.

But for the meantime, the exercise that I am doing is working on strengthening my pelvis and my core, so that way I can live my life without being in pain.


Accepting and appreciating my body has really been a journey for me. At first I tried to remind myself that fertility goddesses always had bigger bodies, and that Rubens painted beautiful fat women. That everyone's taste in bodies is different. I was convincing myself of that.

But now? I look at pictures of myself when I was intensely dieting, and though I fit the standard "mold" of societal expectations of beauty, I'm much happier now with my larger, plumper, rounder body, and think I look better too. And I try to teach my kids acceptance of bodies at all sizes, and my girls, at least, talk about how they love my fat because it means I'm squishier and give yummy soft hugs.

(P.S. If anyone is extremely curious how much I weigh, not that it matters, but I know I'll get comments like I'm not "really fat", I'm roughly 250 lbs, and at my lowest, after all my dieting, I got to 165.)