Last year, my Uncle mentioned that he'd like to see me live long enough to watch my niece grow up. She's the one sleeping with the cat on the bed. Two of my sweet babies. I thought maybe he was being melodramatic. I never minded people talking about my weight past the age of 23. The more blunt they were, the more honest they were, the better. Sugar-coated lies (sugar-coated anything for that matter) is what got me to where I am. People judge me, they look at me and immediately think that I'm stupid, that I'm lazy and that I have no goals or ambitions. They judge me because of my weight. My weight has been a source of protection for me. A nice fatty tissue surrounding my need to be accepted, to be loved, to be liked. It has taught me compassion. It has taught me patience and it has taught me how the world judges a book by it's cover. I once had someone say to me, "I guess I never considered your feelings, it's hard to consider that you have them when you're so fat". I have no idea how she came to that conclusion, but it doesn't seem to be uncommon.
I want to be free of my cellulite shell. I know there's someone underneath this that has waited her whole life to get out. I know this will be my lifetime commitment to myself. A chance to prove that I appreciate and love who I am. I am worth this.