165 pounds. That’s how much I weigh. Not awful, but no where near healthy either. As any woman should, I’ve become aware of what looks good and what doesn’t look good on me (or so I think). I’ve been accustomed to my button up shirts and black tights hiding certain areas of my body, while revealing a somewhat voluptuous part of me. It’s hard to even begin to put this into words without feeling like I’m expressing this as a cry for attention. I know in some ways I’m a ‘full-figured’ woman, whatever that means — or heavy on top, for the lack of better words. Some days this calls for a celebration and on others it calls for an anticipated backache. It’s tough to balance it all. As a young woman in our instant gratification, heavily materialized, and beauty over everything society, there’s little room to find a happy medium.
Most women fancy physical figures that mirror the super skinny or thick and curvy type. Not all, but most. And for those who say they don’t, secretly do when they’re waiting at a convenient store glancing at magazines headlining the best bodies of the year. It’s disappointing because women are sacrificing their health for the sake of aesthetics. We’re glorified for our shapes when sometimes, we’re actually quite out of shape!
Don’t get me wrong, skinny isn’t always unhealthy and neither is thick and curvy. There are many women who wear both sides of the spectrum well, fitting or hearty, whatever it is, they do so in good condition. However, there’s a good portion of us, and I mean my fellow full figured women that are losing sight of the value in good health. Possessing a potent physical lifestyle has been justified to embrace fat that flatters our bodies when it falls in certain places. This is in no way my version of pointing the finger, because I assure you there are four other fingers pointing at me as the adversary. Instead, this is my way of questioning this illusive glory that women are given.
I accepted it for a long time but you can only reject the truth for so long. Morning backaches, poor endurance, and secret stretchmarks have taken over the canvas of a painted picture that I never wanted to finish. At the end of the day, I cannot appease myself by being fine with my shape because some of my fat happens to compliment my body. Body fat can be flattering in many ways but I can’t continue giving praise to my unacceptable BMI. I refuse to endorse a shape that’s only going to lead me down a road of several more pounds. One day I may consider children and I’d be putting myself in a position to gain up to 30 lbs. Even if for a temporary time, that would bring me to almost 200 lbs. Regardless, I’m putting myself at risk for diabetes, high cholesterol, and heart related diseases that are already prominent within the African-American community. I’d never want to see this day, but it would certainly validate that the glory that I once had in my shape, was all a misconception or a sentiment that never should have existed.
So, what’s my plan? I’m going to change. I will, I have no choice. Thanks to my health mindful co-workers and supportive best friend, I’m on my way to a better lifestyle. It’s going to take strength, consistency, and accountability. I try to be a woman of my word and I’m hoping this will post will serve as another mechanism to continue pushing forward. It’s only week one, laugh if you’d like, but I’m hoping to share with you my progress.
Do what you’d like, but let not my words go in vain — this goes for me, especially. Glorify your health, not the deception of your shape.