Fathead

Consider this the introduction to the sequel of Finished being Fat.

One of things I hear most, when I am at signings or speaking to people about my book: “What does ‘Finished being Fat’ even mean? Just because you are skinnier now you can say that? That’s a pretty bold statement.”

Little known fact, the book was originally titled “Philosophy of Finishing” but that apparently lacked a certain wow factor, so the marketing higher ups sacrificed that title in favor of a zippier one. One of the suggestions was the title of my blog, you guessed it, Finished being Fat. The title for the blog came from my desire, not to whittle my waistline – I had done that already – but to stop being fat for good, in here (tapping my noggin, even though no one but me and the dog can see it).

I was fat. Huge. Ginormous. Not because of the number embroidered on the tag of my jeans, but because it consumed a large part of my thoughts and day. It very nearly destroyed my marriage. So much of my life revolved around gaining weight, losing weight, BMI, whether I was pretty enough, smaller than my husband’s secretary, or whether I would squish Santa if I sat on his lap. Yes, I was fat.

But so are many others. That size two gym bunny, staring at herself in the mirror and pinching her nonexistant saddlebag — fat. At least in her own head. Obesity is an epidemic, but so if this unquenchable drive to be better, thinner, than the woman standing next to us. Even if that woman is just me, looking back from the mirror.

This is a PSA for Body Dysmorphic Disorder. But this is also what I saw when I looked in the mirror. Sometimes even as I was losing weight. I couldn’t see past my own judgments for fear that someone else’s would be even worse.

And that, is what Finished being Fat is and means. That is why FbF is not a diet book, or a weight loss book. It’s my story, my quest to change the way I looked at my life and myself. How everything became different when I learned the Philosophy of Finishing, and could give that girl in the mirror a hug and say, “I love you at any size and you can be anything you want to be.”

Someday I might get these folds of skin taken off my belly. Or I might keep using them to tuck in loose change. Who knows, my metabolism might take a nosedive and I may very well once again find myself naked, in the bathroom, on the tile, ten pounds heavier than last month. (opening scene of FbF) But none of those things will invalidate my journey or my words. Because it’s a conscious choice I have to make, to see myself differently. To say I am finished being fat. At any size.

And most days, I succeed.