My friend and coworker Manda over at Break the Sky wrote a great post about weight this week. Thinking about that and having realized about ten minutes prior to beginning this post that there are exactly three months before my cousin’s wedding, I started worrying. “What will I wear to the wedding? I have to look good. I need to lose weight anyway, I’m not satisfied with the size I am. I also have to shop for clothes for my new job. Those clothes aren’t easy to buy when you’re this size.” Once I get started thinking about that, it is a slippery slope.
I have never been “skinny” or “svelte.” I remember quite vividly an instance when I was in the third grade when I was pointed to and called “the fat girl.” I went through puberty earlier than the other girls; became well-endowed very early, but never seemed to slim down. I’ve always been bigger–well, wider. In height, I’m lacking. Between being shorter-than-average and wider-than-many.
I have struggled with my weight for a long time. Sometimes it seems as though the battle will never end.
Then I remember something. The average size of a woman in the United States is between a 12 and 14. I am about that size, depending on store, brand, and particular article of clothing. But I feel “plus-sized” and I have been called “fat” more times than I should even remember–or even care to.
But what matters is how I feel. If I feel healthy and if I am healthy, then that’s what matters. It’s not about the number on the clothes or the number on the scale. And I intend to remember that.