I’m been feelingĀ a bit blah lately. Nothing big and nothing dire. Just meh. Like my initials! I’m not completely sure why, but it’s partly to do with it being summer. I hate summer. So much hatred for the summer. I hate heat so much. It’s in the top five of my most hated things.
But, a few days ago, I was literally feeling myself (my ass) and being very happy that I have one now. Again, it’s not as much of an ass as I would like, but it’s there. And my biceps are really making me happy. Plus. Yesterday, I put my hair up in Chun-Li buns minus the turkey leg wrappers and I have the thicc thighs to match. I want to be chunky Chun-Li for Halloween, even if I have nowhere to go.
I’m feeling sassy. And I’m feeling good. And I have no qualms about saying it. Look. I’ve hated my body for decades. I’ve abused it and been mean to it, and I’ve flat-out ignored it. I thought it was grotesque and that it was an abomination upon this world. I live in a culture that fully supports that fat women and people who present as women should be ashamed of ourselves and as apologetic as possible about existing.
Side Note: This was the same when it comes to children. I had made the decision in my early twenties not to have them, and I never wavered. There was so much anger at me for daring to buck the status quo, but even more so because I didn’t consider the status quo worthy of thinking about. I never said this, but I’m sure it came through in my attitude. Any article I read at the time about not having children was ladened with other way to care for children (being an aunt, a mentor, a go-to for childcare, etc.) and reasons why they did not want children. Mostly genetics. Or their mental health issues.
All of this is fine, but I didn’t feel (and don’t feel) like I need to be apologetic or make excuses for not wanting/having children. There is one reason at the top of my list: I don’t want them. I never have. And at this point in my life, I doubt I ever will. I did have other reasons on the list (I’d be a terrible mother, we don’t need more people, it’s bad for the environment, etc.), but I really think the only reason you should have kids is because you actively want them.
Back to my body. I’ve been told I’m fat and gross by my mother since I was seven. Hm. She was also the one who gave me so much shit about not having kids. Coincidence? No. She did not specifically say I was gross, but she di say that I would be so pretty if I would lose some weight. When I was seven. She’s 5’2″ and has been obsessed with that five pounds for all her life. Whether she was at her peak weight or not, it was never enough. She definitely had her own body dysmorphia that she foisted upon me.