Honest To Blog - I Don't Hate My Arms

So, I was trying to think back to the time when I realised that I was fat. I’ve always been on the chubby side, and it’s not something my parents were ever ashamed about, or made me aware of. That I can remember, anyway. I mean, my Dad is chubby. I remember liking the roundness of his stomach as a child. That it wasn't wobbly, but a good solid round belly, and my mum has always been slim. I've never remember as a child being taught that one was better than the other, or that I should strive to be one or the other.

And I was thinking about my arms. I know a lot of women have issue with their arms. I never have. I've never felt the need to cover up my arms, or be ashamed of them. I don’t really know why, I just never have. (My knees, now that’s another story, until recently I would never ever ever wear a hem line above the knee).

My Mum, not being offended by my arms.

Then I remembered something else. When I was younger, I got some new clothes, and among them was this awesome purple mesh camo top, and a purple velvet skirt. The skirt was short, and tight, but it fit me. And the top, well that was see through. I would wear them together with my purple velvet doc martins. The skirt showed my knees, and it was tight across my bum and hips, and the shirt showed my stomach, but I was never aware that this was wrong. That I shouldn't wear this skirt being fat. That I should cover these things up. My mum never told me I shouldn't wear these things. She told me when something looked good, or when something looked bad, but she never told me I couldn't or shouldn't wear something because I was too fat to wear it. She loved this outfit on me, and encouraged me to wear it a lot. So I did. I was none the wiser. I wasn't aware that I was getting stared at because I was fat. I thought people were jealous of my awesome purple outfit.

Here they are again!

So, when I think about being ashamed of my fat, or when I became aware I was fat, and this was unacceptable, I must have brought this on myself. My parents never really did. My parents are amazingly wonderful people, who support and encourage me in whatever I decide to do (seriously, my folks are the bomb). So when I decided I was fat, and needed to correct this, they fully supported me. Not because they thought I was right, but because that’s what I wanted. Once I decided I wanted to do a 20km walk for Walk Against Want. My parents never said ‘no, you can’t do that because you’re too fat’. My dad came and did it with me (also, my Dad has tirelessly tried every single diet program with me. What a champ). And yeah, it took us all day, and we stopped a lot, but we walked every single kilometer of those 20.  All my fat shame came from ‘friends’ and from the bombardment of tiny models, and fat shaming weight loss propaganda. It came from being a teenager and wanting to shop in the shops my friends shopped in, and then not fitting in to their clothing. I realise now that I’m not to blame for not fitting in to their clothes, the shops suck for not making enough sizes.

Here they are at the zoo

Here they are at my best friends wedding, and I'm eating a cheeseburger

I've tried all the diets. All of them. And they suck. I hate them. Every single diet I've tried, I've successfully lost weight. And every single time I've regained the weight within a year. If weightloss programs really worked, they’d probably be broke, because they wouldn't have any repeat business. They want you to fail, so you keep giving them your money. I’m genetically meant to be fat. That’s just that. I can try whatever I want, I’ll still end up fat. It’s mentally draining, it’s physically draining, and it creates a cycle of gaining and losing, that has got to be bad for you. So, I’m the body shape I’m meant to be. And I’m happy. I’m healthy. I’m fat.

And now, now that I've learnt about fat acceptance, and body acceptance, my parents are right there with me. Supporting me, and loving me. Just the other day, my mum sent me an article about fat acceptance that she found. The same goes for my best friend. She has always been right there with me in my choices, as I have with her, that’s what best friends do. And my amazing prince. He has been a huge influence in my path to self acceptance. He tells me every day how beautiful I am, and how much he loves me. And I believe him every single time. And I feel so unbelievably lucky to have him in my life. 

My gorgeous boy

Plus, I've got all these rad tattoos on my arms, and who wants to cover those up?