The F-Word

I love words. I love their texture -- the wide, round 'orange' with its tangy silent 'e', and the smooth, sexy 'moan' that ripples the breath it rides out on. I love the endless combinations words can come in -- and how words, with their own private lives, like the carefree 'butterfly' and the crisp and efficient 'stomach', can hold hands for a moment and give meaning to my world: "He gives me butterflies in my stomach." I love words...and I really love the word FAT.

It's to the point; it slides in on its frolicking fricative, makes a wide-open statement with its outstretched vowel, and turns tartly on tenacious toes and marches off after just one syllable. It says what it means and means what it says, takes no shortcuts and takes no prisoners. I love fat.

I'm fat. 300+ lbs worth of philosophies, opinions, metaphors, and memories. People in my world have learned to love fat like I do, and I aim to convert even more. I pull stereotypes from the air and fold them like origami into beautiful shapes, and I don't apologize for making the world a better place. I love words, I love fat, and I love me, and if you really know me, you will, too. That's not vanity, it's confidence, hard-earned and well-deserved.

I'm smart, funny, friendly, caring, creative, loving, generous, passionate, adventurous, dedicated, insightful, open-minded, and understanding. I'm also messy, chronically late, demanding, bad at managing money, bad at shutting up when I ought to, and far too often, I say the first thing that pops into my head. In other words, I'm not perfect. Kinda like everyone else in the world, right? The difference is, I know it, freely admit it, and embrace my imperfection -- and everyone else's -- as an exhilerating part of human existence.

I want to commune with people who get it, or people who don't but are willing to learn. People who can see through the thick layers of hatred and propaganda and glimpse the light of the truth shining through. People who can objectively and critically analyze what they read or hear and form their own opinions. People who refuse to be force-fed public opinion, who aren't afraid to be unpopular, who revel in standing out, who stand up for the underdog, who are brave enought to BE the underdog. People who remember when curves were a sign of beauty and vitality, when round cheeks were rosy and healthy, when women grew up to look like women and not little boys. People who don't put much stock in old wives' tales, urban legends, fairy tales, or the beauty myth.