Fat

 

Me

Me.

I have fat. More of it more than is good for me.

It kind of bunches up in certain places – tummy, boobs, back and arms.  Oh those arms. Imagine a weeble with limbs.  That’s me.

The one good thing about it is that my legs are strong, from carrying all that fat around.

In my mind I’ve always been big,

huge,

the size of an ELEPHANT

but that’s not true.  I wasn’t a fat kid.  I wasn’t even a fat teenager.  I just thought I was.  I had a distorted image of myself.  It still surprises me to see photos of myself as a child looking normal size, even a bit small, because for most of my life my brain has morphed me into something else.

I grew my excess fat as an adult – for protection; a barrier. Layers and layers of it to hide under, to blame for things, to distract attention from internal pain, and later, as a way of keeping men away.  So I could be safe.

But  I wasn’t safe.  My worst predator and abuser was me. I used my fat to hurt myself with, to harm myself with.  My fat = Protection from everyone and punishment from me.

I’ve had a lot of healing – hours and hours of prayer, counselling, soul-searching.  (I share more about that in my other pages and blogs).

Now it is time to let my fat go.  I don’t need it any more.  It has served its purpose and outstayed its welcome.  It is time to melt my fat away.

And replace it with more love for myself.

 

 

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