I got on the scale at the doctor’s yesterday and for the first time in my life, I really don’t care what it said.
Seriously, I have tried to be body positive for years. I love my body. It carries around my mind, which is what makes me Suzy (or Susan or Suzika or Sue depending on where/what time of my life you know me from.)
My body is short, it is fat, it squishy. It is the external. If you can look beyond me being fat and plain and silly looking you get the good stuff.
The empathy, the love, the loyal as hell friend, the silliness, the dedication, the intelligence, the woman who loves words, the artist, because writing and photography are art forms, the aunt who adores her niblings, the strong dedicated person, the wife to an amazing husband.
That is who I am and so much more. Look beyond me not being your aesthetic perfection and you get the fierce, powerful, nerd who will be your friend for life.
Cancer makes me truly deeply go beyond the fat hatred and not give a shit about a number on the scale, but about who I am. For the first time in 41 years, I really don’t give a shit what you think about my body.