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My Fat Euphoria: A Day Without Shame
It’s time to celebrate who my body is
I’ve just painted my nails blue and walked out into the sun in a shirt and pants to write. Just a shirt. No bra for the first time since I was a small child. It makes my head swim and my heart bubble with giddiness.
It’s a euphoria moment.
Growing up, I was the big fat kid, the fat friend.
I was the girl more victimized because they were both attractive and fat. I evolved into the fat runner, mostly because of the amount of people who thought I could never accomplish races and coaching for long-distance running. Or maybe they thought I would never even muster a Couch-to-5k.
An ally once talked me up to his round of straight-sized friends, and I was so happy he accurately called me fat. No beating around the bush with euphemisms. No awkward trying to say something without saying it. No speaking with coded language.
Add onto the more typical trolling of fatness some gender dysmorphia and you’ve got a shitstorm of feelings which need addressing.
I recently went in for a breast reduction and came out four cup sizes smaller and elated. Not only did my back and neck and shoulders begin to feel relief within forty-eight hours from heat rashes, skin breakdown, and pressure…
