A letter to you- and myself.

***Warning: This blog post purposefully uses the term "fat" throughout the writing. This is not intended to be pejorative but a reclamation of the term as I navigate my own dialogue with body and weight. If this language is a trigger for you, please be aware.

Dear fat girls,

Have you ever just wanted to disappear into yourself? Have you  second-guessed yourself and your body so much that you're not sure it's even yours anymore? Welcome to my summer.

I started off this summer in a wonderful way -going to the gym each day, eating thoughtfully even if not healthily, appreciating what my body could do as much as it looks, and generally being aware of my needs and wants.

And then life got in the way, as it often does. And, as the summer progressed, I found myself avoiding those things I'd instituted into my life that were for my *self*. And the weight that I'd gained overnight this spring when I was put on a new medication just kept increasing. Eventually, I found myself at a new number - one I haven't been at for 5 years.

And, while I've been acknowledging to myself that *I* am more than this new number, and acknowledging that life has gotten in the way, and forgiving myself all of that, I still feel shame. A person close to me noted just this week that I haven't been blogging. I admitted that it's because I'm ashamed of how I am right now - of my size and of my struggle. I feel vulnerable and it's uncomfortable to talk about that vulnerability publicly.

Yet over my years of blogging, I have been both proud of and found it helpful to talk publicly about these issues. There are far too few spaces in which we can truly talk about our bodies without being shamed (much less without feeling internalized shame and fat-phobia). There are far too few places where we can be vulnerable without fear of negative social, personal, or professional consequence.

For me, as a queer, femme woman, there is also an inherent tension  between my identity and the social expectation that my femme body be slim, curvy and, essentially, airbrushed. This leads to all sorts of discomfort in identity: If I'm not slim then am I femme? If I'm femme do I have to be slim? If my curves aren't hourglass, are they attractive? Should I care? If I don't feel comfortable in my body how do I embody my identity- the femininity of femme?

And then I get pulled down rabbit holes of questions and concerns- often becoming overwhelmed and ashamed. This summer reflected that pattern for me.

People don't often comment publicly on this blog. Instead they reach out to me privately via email or in person to tell me that they're struggling with the same issues I'm writing about. These people are my friends, my colleagues, and my family. I realize that by writing publicly about my struggles, that I am giving voice to those who cannot comment publicly. And yet I've still been afraid to do so this summer.

Yesterday I was forwarded  a video that's going viral about a news anchor who was "called out" on being fat by a viewer. She used that opportunity to make a public statement about the discrimination and bullying of fat people. While I appreciated her commentary on bullying, what resonated the most about the video was the moment where she asked that viewer if he truly thinks that she doesn't know she is overweight.

I wanted to simultaneously applaud and cry at that point because that's the story of my life. People assume that because you're overweight you don't know any better. Or, better yet, that you just don't try hard enough. They assume that you're lazy, that losing weight is easy physically and emotionally, and that if you don't you lose weight then you must not want it enough. But they don't know about your life, your history, or your body.

I have struggled with the weight of weight for all of my life. It gets easier over time and yet it's always difficult. As I find myself coming into this fall -once again overweight and struggling- I have to remember that this is a journey and for me it needs to be a public journey. I gain personal strength by acknowledging to myself and to my community the struggles that I navigate through each day. And, I draw strength from the encouragements I receive when I hear other people's challenges. I also hope that my blogging contributes to unraveling the silent shame that accompanies fat-phobia and sexism. And I hope if makes folks feel like they're not alone.

So, I'm picking up the pen again (so to speak) and as I move through this fall and you can expect to see more writing from me about identity, body, shame, pride, eating, and feeling. And, yes, I'll be talking about this process even when I feel vulnerable for all the fat girls (and guys) out there.