I’m really feeling myself today. I don’t know why. I mean, in general, I’ve upped the self-positivity by 1000%, but today, it’s sky-high. I’m feeling my biceps, literally, loving how hard and bulgy they are. I’m thicc with two cs, but also with a ck. I’ve had muscular thighs and calves my whole life. I’ve always been self-conscious about it, but now, i’m all about it.
The last guy I dated got angry because I had bigger biceps than he did. That was indicative of many things wrong with him, but it also shows the rampant misogyny in Western culture (there is misogyny in Eastern culture, too, but it manifests slighly differently).
I spent so much of my life trying to make myself smaller. That was the first thirty years of my life. Trying to diet myself into non-existence. I was a size 0 at one point, and that wasn’t enough for me. It didn’t help that my BMI at that time had me on the edge of overweight (within five pounds). I say this to emphasize what hot garbage BMI is an a personal assessment tool. And it’s so damn common in Western society.
Fuck all that noise. I admit. I was feeling a bit down yesterday about my weight. Hey, I live in this deeply fatphobic society. I have been weight-shamed before. It’s sadly a fact of life in this society. And it’s working so well, obviously, as Americans are heavier than ever. Because we know that shaming people is the way to get them to do what you want them to do. It worked on me!
That’s sarcasm, in case you can’t tell. It did actually work on me for a while because shame is what drove me deep into anorexia with a side helping of bulimia! Twice! Shame is what made me hate myself and wish I were dead because I thought I was grotesque and ugly, that no man (at that point) would ever want a disgusting piece of garbage like me.
It didn’t help me that I was Asian, too. Because they are not shy about telling you how fat you are. Weight is not verboten, and women are supposed to take up no space. So, yeah. I got it on all side. My mom put me on my first diet when I was seven, but also gave me contradicting messages. I was fat and needed to lose weight, but I also had to finish everything on my plate because starving kids in Africa.
By the way. I still don’t get how that is applicable to what an American kid is eating for dinner. If the American kid doesn’t eat her Brussels sprouts, it’s not as if they can mail the sprouts to Africa. Also by the way, I didn’t learn to like veggies until I realized that boilng the hell out of them was not the way to cook them.
I got fat in retaliation to the expectations. Or rather, I didn’t know how not to go to extreme. I spent my thirties miserable because I was fat. I was back to being gross and disgusting, and it didn’t help that society supported those beliefs. I tried to use Taiji to help me become more at peace with my body. And it worked. To on extent. I became studiedly neutral about my body. I still didn’t want to look in the mirror, but I could at least acknowledge that it…worked.
By the way, I also hated my face. In part because it was fat, but also because I just felt ugly. Incredibly ugly. It was in part beacuse I was Asian, but it was mostly just because of all the negative messages I received on all fronts about how wrong I was. In every way. Too fat. Ugly hair. Ugly eyes. Ugly everything. I wasn’t thin and blond with enormous blue eyes. I was wrong.
Taiji did help. It didn’t make me feel beautiful, but it helped me come to grips with my body being utile. I could acecpt that it was a machine that I needed to keep alive. And going. And when I was in a minor car accident, it sailed through it with only a huge bruise on my stomach. That was from the air bag or the seat belt, or both. I looked up, say the car hurtling at me, said in my brain, “I’m going to get hit” and instantly relaxed. So, yeah. Taiji helped my body in that way. At that point, I would have said I was grimly acceptinng of my body. I didn’t love it, but I did not hate it. I mean, I at least shoved the hate down. Or pushed it away from me. It wasn’t on the surface level and I did not talk about it because I did not want to contribute to the toxicity of diet talk.
But. I still didn’t like my body. If you offered me the chance to lose 100 pounds in exchange for living five less years, yeah, I would have taken it. In a flash. I’ve died twice now. Take away a hundred pounds please!
I’m just kidding. I love my body now. I adore it. All of it. I was having a moment of weakness yesterday where I was hating my body, but it passed quickly. I can’t tell you how much I appreciated my body after leaving the hospital. Yes, I was drugged out of my mind, but I was also profoundly alive! Which I hadn’t been two weeks earlier! Let that sink in. I died twice. This is not hyperbole. My heart stopped twice. I was dead. Because of the fabulous EMTs, I was revived Also twice!
My body is fucking amazing! I cannot sing its praises enough. I love it with all my heart. Which is also fucking amazing! It stopped twice and said, “Naw, son. I’m not going out like that!” And it started up again. Can you understand how incredible that is? Two cardiac arrests and my heart shrugged it off like it was nothing.
Not to mention the ischemic stroke. I always throw that in the end like an afterthought because it is. Normally, it would be the starring fact, but in this case, it’s shadowed by the two cardiac arrests. It’s funny but the walking (non-COVID-related) pneumonia part is something I only include because it’s what kicked everything off. It triggered the rest of the events, and I’m sure it wasn’t much fun in and of itself. Honestly, I can’t tell you because I don’t remember that part of my life.
What I know now is that I’m all that AND a bag of chips. I did not get into Lizzo when she first came out. I don’t know why, but when I found her after being in the hospital, I was all over it. She’s unapologetic about loving herself. It’s not ‘oh, excuse me for being fat’. Oh, hell, no. It’s WORSHIIP ME AS THE GODDESS I AM. She refuses to make excuses or try to take up less space. She’s my inspiration for how much I fucking LOVE my body now. It’s a wonderlan,d a temple, and all that! Anyone who doesn’t think so can kiss my yellow, not-so-flat ass.