I’m done trying to be small. With my thoughts. With my personality. With my thighs, dammit.
How has it taken me this long to realise how ridiculous it is basing a large portion of my self-worth on the size of my legs. My butt. My stomach. Can we just think about that for a minute?
If you’re going to judge me, let it be on something that actually matters. If size is the only thing you can see, then judge me on the size of my heart. Generosity. Kindness. Honesty. If you can’t see past my size 16 curves, then that is something you’ll have to work through.
No more thoughts of “I’ll be happier when I’m thinner” or “I’ll buy the jeans when I’m two sizes smaller“. I refuse. Why have we allowed “small” become the object of our desires? Instead of simply viewing mainstream media with passing interest, we have embraced it. Welcomed articles on how to get rock hard abs and reviews on the best juice cleanses into our homes, into our hearts. We’ve lost sight of our identity. Our inherent beauty.
I stumbled across this quote on Instagram, and it just spoke to me:
“One of the most potent ways that you can step into your power as a woman is to love and accept your body. Don’t be afraid of your voluptuousness. Get into full-bodied everything. No more hiding from our fullness. Eat the delicious food! Erupt in big, voluptuous 150kg laughter! Wear whatever the hell you want. Buy the beautiful lingerie. Delight in your curves. It’s so incredibly important that we reclaim ourselves.”
I want to erupt in 150kg laughter. I’m done with fat shaming. With batting away compliments with a laugh. With self-deprecating comments. I’m owning my size. My bigness, and all that means.
I want a big life. Filled with big adventures. Big moments of happiness. Big glasses of wine, big bowls of pasta, big hugs. And, I plan on taking my big thighs with me. I won’t envy small for one more minute.