A few weeks ago I read an article called I F*cking Love My Body. I tried to get into it, to understand the message, to feel the same pride in my inherited features, but I cannot pretend to be something I’m not. No matter how hard I try. So, this was born:
I fucking hate my body, and I’m tired of pretending I don’t.
I buy dresses, hike them up above the knee, feel the swoosh of them on the back of my thighs, but cannot forget the purple inky veins slinking across my skin. Blue, black, deep red, these lines remind me to pull it down, tug it over my ass, stay grounded, stay knee-length in all things.
I buy new bras, smaller across the back, skinnier straps for a slimmer body, yet the cups remain overflowing. My breasts hang heavy with past mistakes. The valleys in my shoulders remind me of their heft.
I buy panties with the most elastic, walk past the lace, past the high hip cuts, straight to the strongest, sturdiest pair. I buy black, hoping there is some sex appeal left in color.
I buy tools to quantify my being. My digital scale holds bad news. My FitBit says I haven’t done enough. My Fitness Pal says I’ve overeaten again.
I fucking hate my body, and I’m tired of pretending I don’t.
I can’t wear short shorts because of my veins.
I can’t wear tank tops because of my floppy biceps.
I can’t wear a bathing suit in public.
I can’t sit down without worrying about muffin top.
I can’t be naked in the daylight in front of my husband, ever.
I can’t fake it. I never could.
I fucking hate my body, and I’m tired of pretending I don’t.
But, I love the inside. The red, gushy throb of my love, the seemingly endless canals of hope, the equal parts sweet and snark.
I just wish I could turn myself inside out and meet you heart first.
Amye Archer is the author of Fat Girl, Skinny, a memoir about waiting, weight-ing, skinny jeans, fat girls, bad choices, and happy endings. You can buy it here.
thefatgirlblog.com 
Oh, my lord!! Stop that!! I was ready to end it all until I got to the last two lines and fell in love with myself again. I can’t take that this early in the morning 😉
You don’t have to cover up your body. No clothing should be off limits to you simply because your body is a different shape than the women who wear them in the magazines. Wear what makes you feel beautiful. There is nothing more rare, nor more beautiful, than a woman being unapologetically herself; comfortable in her perfect imperfection. To me, that is the true essence of beauty. Remember that the word “fat” is not, by definition, synonymous with worthlessness, laziness, weakness, or lack of intelligence. I’m 19, and if someone called me fat today, I would probably cry. But then I’d think about the kind of small-minded person who is threatened by a woman taking up a few extra inches of space in the world, and another one-syllable adjective would come to mind: sad. Never Allow yourself to think that because you carry more inches than the next women that deserve any less. For a long time, I thought that because I carried around a few extra pound that I didn’t deserve friendships, romantic love, or to even raise my hand in class. I look back, and think “What a waste!”. Do not allow others and their judgement to depict the version of yourself that you become. Don’t let your weight, or anyone opinions of that mold you. One of the most important things that I have found walking through this journey and watching others taking the same path, is do not demonize or idolize skinny girls, or the size zero body type. All through grade school and high school I swore that if I could take a pair of scissors and cut 20 pounds off of me, my life would be perfect and I would have no worries or problems. But the truth is, I was wrong. Life consists of so much more than who is fat, and who is skinny. Find Beauty in yourself.