Dear Beautiful Mama, An Open Letter From Your Fat Friend

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Work With Me

As much as I write for my fellow fluffy mamas, I get criticized by those who either have the unicorn metabolism I love to refer to, or to those moms who’ve sincerely worked hard to remain fit. Ladies, I love you too. I promise.

So here’s the deal. I diligently and mindfully work to ensure that my sarcasm or jokes about myself do not become overbearing or bothersome to others. I realized late in high school that, while it may make it feel easier to laugh about myself before others do it at my expense, it is unhealthy and it makes the people who really love me uncomfortable. So, I ditched that.

However, my writing is my therapy. Sincerely.

That means that I write in my most vulnerable voice from places that are still so cob-webby that I have to blow the dust off of them before I can put words together on a page. For my personal experiences, much pain has been born from this subject of insecurity about my size.

What does this mean for you, dear, beautiful friend in your size something that isn’t followed by more than one X? It means I love you so much. It means that I don’t see you for just your outer beauty, but I see you for your incredibly loving heart. I see that you, too, have insecurities. And I hear you.

Please be patient with me. When I am battling to grasp my reality—that I have over 100 pounds to lose—it makes me less patient with women who complain that their ear lobes are too big while they eat queso while I am picking through a dressing-less salad and wallowing in my self-pity. (Look, I don’t do it often, but I have my moments.)

So sister, try to love me through it. This is part of who I am—a deep and kind of yucky part about which I am not proud. Just as much as your trauma or divorce, introverted nature or soft-spoken spirit is a part of you, this is me. Please let it be mine and love me through it.

Also know that it is more than ok to set me straight if I say something hurtful, even in jest. I assure you I didn’t mean to be hurtful, but I mess up…kind of a lot. You are beautiful and I love you. I promise to hear you and continue to lift you up. Please promise to shoot me straight and I will do my best to believe you when you compliment me. It isn’t easy and that comes from a place of hurt. But I know you mean your words.

 

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