Explosions come in due time
I'm done drowning.
I'm done feeling obligated to the past. I'm done letting people emotionally black-mail me to keep me around. I'm done soaking up others problems and letting myself be made to feel like the bad guy when I stand up for myself. I'm done being convenient. I'm done letting people assign a value to me, and withdrawing when I demand their respect, as though I ought to know my place.
I ought to be grateful. I ought to be happy for what I have. I ought to be so glad I have them in my life at all, because I couldn't do better if I tried.
And I'm done with all that.
For the last few years, and for varying reasons, I've let other people (romantic interests, friends, sometimes family, those who are supposed to have my welfare in mind) tell me what I'm worth. They've all put a cap on my potential, telling me I'm that "the fat girl," and I shouldn't dare ask to try to be anything better. So that's what I was: the fat girl, the fat friend, the fat girl at work. She's pretty but she's fat. She's smart but she's fat. She's talented but she's fat. If I tried to lose weight I lost friendships over it, because the people I considered my friends and loved ones felt I was "just too good" for them, or trying to be something that I wasn't.
Don't misread me: I'm a size 16 and I feel no shame for it. I'm comfortable in my clothes and in my skin. I will do battle with anyone who tries to make me feel any different, or attempts to hurt anybody else with weight issues. I exercise and try to eat right, and maintain a healthy weight for my height and age. But I was never heavy growing up, not for a single day before I found myself soaking up the ugliness from those who were supposed to support me.
So for the past twelve years I've tricked myself into thinking I was the fat girl, because I didn't know who else I would be if I wasn't. For the past twelve years, no matter how much weight I lost, no matter how much I exercised, no matter how hard I tried, I thought I would never be anything but what I am. That this is it. This is all I have to aspire to.
Then I woke the other morning, and wondered what I would look like if I didn't have such ugly people in my life weighing me down. And you know what? I liked what I saw.
So I'm done. I may not be a size 2 when I'm through, but I'm going to keep doing what I'm doing, exercising and trying to stay healthy. I'm not going to let myself be shoved into boxes and narrow definitions by people who don't have my best interest in mind. I'm not going to take on any more ugliness, and let myself be made into a punching bag for people who can't stand to look in the mirror in the morning. I'm setting my own goals and I'm making up the story as I go, no matter how it ends.
And I dare anyone to try to stop me this time.
