“Because when you’re a fat kid like I was,” can take you just so far. You can only grip onto that excuse for so long before it becomes trite. Yes, poor you, poor over-privileged, over-fed, upper-middle everything girl. It’s time to stop clinging to that shit as your identity. It’s not who you are anymore. God, there’s way worse out there. Just get the fuck over yourself. Then I took a step away from the mirror and politely responded, “Eat me.”
Yes, there are people starving in Africa, people missing their limbs, dying of terminal cancers, and I have the nerve to complain about the cellulite on my pasty white ass. Why don’t you just get over yourself, stop being so shallow, and realize there are a lot more things in life to worry about than your weight?
Sound accurate enough? The ones asking don’t want to hear the answer. Are there people out there with harrowing childhood memories filled with abuse and unspeakable stories? Absolutely. I’m not one of them. I had two parents who loved me, provided for me. I’ve been extremely fortunate and lucky, but it doesn’t make my struggle any less real. It temporarily puts things into perspective, sure, but the emotional issues don’t dissolve upon the intellectual acknowledgment that it can always be worse.