they disturb me so much.
I know beyond a doubt that the bigger woman is healthier, and no doubt happier, but there are these voices in my head protesting her self-acceptance. I can hear you all loud and clear, Al, Mullet, Mary, Chuck, Kay, and others, mocking her for her size and her lack of obvious self-loathing. And while all that makes me sick, what’s even worse is that I know I’ll never find it in myself to quit keeping as tight a lid as I can on my own size, measuring my mood based on how flat my stomach is, or how recently I was mistaken for a teenager from behind, or whatever sized-based standard I’m currently obeying.
It’s frustrating: recognizing a trap yet remaining within it regardless. Yet, here I am. And here I’ll stay.