I realized I was a chubby kid in elementary school. I’d never thought about things like weight or body image before then. I was a kid. But in fifth grade I wanted to be friends with some girls I sat next to. They slid me a note that informed me that if I wanted to be friends with them I’d have to wear tighter clothes. Because F+A+T. So yeah, that was a little rough.
After that, middle school came. Then high school. Weight was always in the back of my mind. Other girls hit puberty faster than I did. They got taller, sharper. I filled out too, of course. And I dated. Felt beautiful. But there was always something there. Even to this day, at 20, I still feel it. Even in a loving relationship, I still feel it, occasionally asking him if he really does think I’m pretty.
There’s so much promotion today of self love. But that can be hard. It isn’t a simple task to just say “Whatever” to the parts of yourself that you don’t like. It’s never fun to realize you’re the biggest girl in the room.
Some days I feel great. Sexy, confident, ready to conquer the world. And other days, I don’t. I notice everything I don’t like about myself: the bags under my eyes, the stretch marks on my stomach. I see the filtered faces of beautiful people on Facebook and Instagram and I get sad, self-loathing.
Being confident in yourself is hard. It’s okay to not feel great. It’s okay to wear one-pieces instead of bikinis if you feel better in them. At the same time, it’s okay to dress how you want. It’s okay to wear a crop top even if you have a little extra in the middle. Your body is yours, to do with and feel about however you please.