fat,
what a word.
i didn’t always hate it,
but i learned to.
learned it at sleepovers,
when my friends clothes stopped halfway up my legs.
learned it at the beach,
where they lived in bikinis
and i lived in anticipation.
towel folded beside the pool,
waiting for the moment i’d need to disappear.
i thought that word was a curse.
something stuck to me.
something i had to carry.
i didn’t know then
it was shaping me.
quietly.
patiently.
somewhere along the way, i started paying attention.
to the way i noticed people.
to the way i felt rooms.
to how i learned to love harder
because i didn’t always know how to love myself.
what makes a person anyway?
because it was never the way i looked.
never how close i came to whatever “perfect” was supposed to be.
it was the heart.
it was always the heart.
the compassion you grow
when you’ve felt unseen.
the love you learn to give
even on days you feel undeserving of it.
life has this quiet rule,
you have to give before you receive.
and i watched people chase love,
hold it tight, consume it like it might run out.
but the ones who shine the brightest, the ones who look whole and untouched, they’re usually the ones aching the most.
being “fat” most of my life taught me that who you are matters more than how you appear.
that kindness leaves a longer impression than beauty ever could.
that the way you treat strangers
counts just as much as how you love your own.
and confidence,
confidence isn’t a body type.
it’s the way you walk into yourself.
the way you stay.
the way you show up for yourself and others everyday.
the way you choose, again and again, to believe you are worthy while still becoming.
so love your body.
It will continue to change everyday.
take care of it,
in every version of it.
don’t wait for it to be enough,
because it already is when you stop looking only at the surface.
focus on your heart, give more than you consume and always be grateful for every moment. it’s all part of the process.
people will always judge books by their covers.
that’s real.
but the ones who stay,
the ones who feel you and love you,
they’re reading the story.
and this was never about the word.
it was always about who i became because of it.
fat. what a word.
fat,
what a word.
i didn’t always hate it,
but i learned to.
learned it at sleepovers,
when my friends clothes stopped halfway up my legs.
learned it at the beach,
where they lived in bikinis
and i lived in anticipation.
towel folded beside the pool,
waiting for the moment i’d need to disappear.
i thought that word was a curse.
something stuck to me.
something i had to carry.
i didn’t know then
it was shaping me.
quietly.
patiently.
somewhere along the way, i started paying attention.
to the way i noticed people.
to the way i felt rooms.
to how i learned to love harder
because i didn’t always know how to love myself.
what makes a person anyway?
because it was never the way i looked.
never how close i came to whatever “perfect” was supposed to be.
it was the heart.
it was always the heart.
the compassion you grow
when you’ve felt unseen.
the love you learn to give
even on days you feel undeserving of it.
life has this quiet rule,
you have to give before you receive.
and i watched people chase love,
hold it tight, consume it like it might run out.
but the ones who shine the brightest, the ones who look whole and untouched, they’re usually the ones aching the most.
being “fat” most of my life taught me that who you are matters more than how you appear.
that kindness leaves a longer impression than beauty ever could.
that the way you treat strangers
counts just as much as how you love your own.
and confidence,
confidence isn’t a body type.
it’s the way you walk into yourself.
the way you stay.
the way you show up for yourself and others everyday.
the way you choose, again and again, to believe you are worthy while still becoming.
so love your body.
It will continue to change everyday.
take care of it,
in every version of it.
don’t wait for it to be enough,
because it already is when you stop looking only at the surface.
focus on your heart, give more than you consume and always be grateful for every moment. it’s all part of the process.
people will always judge books by their covers.
that’s real.
but the ones who stay,
the ones who feel you and love you,
they’re reading the story.
and this was never about the word.
it was always about who i became because of it.