I'm not fat. I have fat. It's not me, it's extra me. It's not who or what I am. It doesn't define me. It doesn't show you my heart, my history, my intelligence, my kindness, integrity, compassion, sense of humor, courage, adventurousness, creativity, or the love that I have for people or that people have for me.
It doesn't tell you how it got there, what it has cost me, or who I may have been before it came to be. It's just there. It's not healthy. It's rarely fashionable. It takes a lot of energy and it still takes its toll on the rest of me. I don't embrace it, but I accept it. It doesn't define me.
Chubby face, meat wings, pudgy thighs, loose skin, beer belly, muffin top, wide load, cankles; swipe left. Not seen and yet gone. It's amazing and often disheartening that as big as I am, so few people can see me. Really see me beyond the blinders of social judgment. I didn't start off with fat. Few people do. Few people make a conscious decision to pack on the pounds or even double or triple their body weight as adults. Sometimes it is poor choices. Other times its circumstances, nurturing, genetics, accidents, injuries, emotional issues, disease, or other health problems. We hate Adipocytes, also known as lipocytes and , but without them, each and every one of us would die.
It's still socially acceptable to mock, ridicule, and condemn the obese so long as you don't do it at work or school. I've never heard anyone proclaim "Fat Lives Matter!". For that, I'm glad. I'm not fat. I have fat. It's not me, it's extra me. It's not who or what I am. It doesn't define me.
Brother, can you spare a fat cell?