I’m fat again.
I’m 5’4″ and I weigh about 170 lbs. According to the internets my BMI is 29.5, hovering close to the brink of obesity.
A year ago I weighed about 140, which is is cozily in the “normal” range. I thought I looked good at that point, still with ample fat deposits for when the famine strikes, but shapely.
170 lbs is, no matter how I look at it, fat. I weighed about this much two years ago, and lost the weight through a combination of walking instead of busing/driving, and dancing at goth clubs. I plan to start doing these things again.
I know there are women who can pull off this height/weight combo a lot better than I can. My friend Delilah, for example, is two inches taller, about the same weight and much more booby-licious than I am. There are girls who make a little extra padding look good.
I am not one of those girls.
I talk too much about my desire to lose weight. It makes other people feel bad, I think. A lot of women who have similar shapes to mine (generously buttered, as I like to think of it) protest that I look normal, that I don’t need to lose weight.
There’s a great movement toward fat acceptance in our culture. I think this is a good thing. People don’t deserve to be treated badly because of their weight. Attractive people needn’t be skeletally thin. Women look good with some meat on their bones. All true. Yes.
But I am fat. I do want to lose weight. And I think it’s patronizing for anyone to say that this is normal, that this is acceptable. It isn’t acceptable for me to have fat spilling over the top of my pants. I will not be consoled into thinking that I look attractive with pale, jiggly cellulite… not just on my thighs and ass, which is forgivable, but on my calves. On my arms. It’s disgusting, and no amount of politically correct babble will make me think that this looks good.
So I’m doing something about it. I’ll let you know how it goes.