The No Loving Yourself Movement
I may never love the all of myself. Nor do I think I will wholly love any one part of myself. I don’t believe that I have to love myself in order to love others because I do know real love. I guess the part of myself I love is my patience with others, but even that can dissipate quickly. I have wondered when I can give up on self love and have people leave me alone about it. Luckily my partner does not need me to feel any type of way about me or about him as long as we sail along comfortably; for the most part we do. Maybe I should start a movement--YOU DON’T HAVE TO LOVE YOURSELF TO BE HAPPY!
I am traveling in March and have to fly. I know it will be easier travel if I lose weight before I get on a plane, but I am rebelling. The more I think of losing a part of myself, the more I balk, the more I eat, the more carbs sneak into my life. Okay, they don’t really sneak; I buy and consume them eyes wide open. I don’t mind fat; it’s soft and sweet and pleasantly jiggly. I just don’t like to squish my fat into tiny seats beside tiny people who don’t want to touch fat people. I grew up thin; I ran around and rarely ate and moved my body all the time. In my 20s, I settled into chain-smoking, cocaine chic thin. Then, in my 30s, I settled down and landed a decent job that pays bills; I settled with a man with whom I am oddly compatible, and I eat whatever I want. How can that really be so bad?
Until I have to fly to Portland. Maybe I will strike it rich and travel first class. That’d be a helluva lot easier than losing weight. That phrase—lose weight—makes no sense. No one likes loss. Even the play on words “the biggest loser” doesn’t connote or denote pleasantry. So, I will keep sporadically contemplating a change of diet and movement, or maybe I will practice my “I-am-too-fat-to-notice-anyone’s-discomfort” face and then I will keep on loving the fat ole me that I started out thinking I could not bear.
Hopewell, VA, USA.