Fat and proud?

Variety is the spice of life.

It is often asserted that life is beautiful and the world is interesting because if offers a diversity. Diversity in colour, diversity in intellect, diversity in perception, diversity in opinions, diversity in ideas and ideology, and diversity in shape.

There are people of different shapes and sizes all over. Some slender, some stout, some round.

I fall into the last category. Have done so for almost all my life (except for a brief period where hostel food and gymming and, according to a certain male friend, the onset of anorexia, which I refuse to believe).

Up until sometime back, I was only mildly bothered by the roundness of my physical existence. I actually ardently argued that 'Round is a shape'.

The rosy notion of 'Fat and Proud' was soon to be shattered as time went on. Diet fads and clothes that make you look 'fab' and 'sexy' started making their impression on me. Suddenly, the notion changed to 'Fat and hating it...more and more by the minute'.

Reality struck me hard across the face when I felt an inexplicable rage at being told by a friend that I have put on so much weight. I couldn't stand to be in the same room and felt my face go red (with shame, embarrassment or rage, its a matter of debate). Not only did I feel publicly humiliated, the funny thing was that I am one of those who makes 'fat' jokes on myself (and have been duly reprimanded for them as well).

So what changed? A friend suggested I decide whether am ok being fat/plump/chubby. I replied, "Of Course!" And that was the death of my charade. He vehemently argued that had I been ok, it wouldn't have mattered who made fun of me and how. He went on to even suggest that I should put my status message as 'Fat and Proud' just to accept that I am ok with being fat and called so. Maybe he was testing my resilience on the matter, or it was his idea of a joke. Either way, I realised, I am NOT ok with being called Fat.

It may be shallow, immature and just plain old over-sensitive, but the fact of the matter is, somethings more than others, are better left unsaid. Not because I feel hurt or its rude. Simply because some realities take longer to accept, digest and embrace.

In the end, the greatest form of acceptance is accepting yourself, with each fibre (and adipose cell too) as your ultimate reality.