Fit-Fat and Fabulous

Pretty, pretty please, don’t you ever, ever feel like you’re less than, less than perfect

Pretty, pretty please, if you ever, ever feel like you’re nothing, you are perfect to me. – Pink “Fuckin’ Perfect”

I had a great workout this morning.  Like, it was one of those workouts where I felt like I made the treadmill my bitch.  And as I was working out, it dawned on me that my fitness level has increased significantly over this past year.  Today was what I consider one of my easy days because I was giving myself a day off my new running routine.  But then I realized that, even on this easy day, I was walking at a 4.0-4.2 mile an hour pace at about a 3 percent incline.  And I kept it up for 45 minutes, my breathing under control enough that I was singing along with my iPod the whole time.  (Strategically placed around the mark when I know my workout will be the most intense, I have Eminem’s “Lose Yourself,” Maroon 5’s “Moves Like Jagger,” Young the Giant’s “My Body,” Michael Jackson’s “Don’t Stop ‘Til You Get Enough, and Pink’s “Fucking Perfect” to push me through).  I felt great: fit, strong, and vibrant.

And as I rocked it out and came to the Pink song, I began thinking about society’s obsession with weight, and particular, with weight loss.  My friend Sarah and I philosophize about the topic often.  You see, despite the fact that I’m at an all time level for myself fitness wise, I’m still what the media would deem fat – like even-too-big-to-be-a-plus-size-model fat.  (My mom recently got a kick out of it when I called myself fit-fat).  No matter that I can make the treadmill my bitch and watch what I eat more often than not, I’ve still only lost about a pant’s size over the last year.  And though I might have some frustrating days when I feel like my work should probably pay off more, I actually love my body, size 14 and all.  I’ve actually never loved my body more than I did this morning as I effortlessly finished the workout that would have been pretty hard to for me complete a year ago.

And so, the Pink lyrics quoted above rang particularly true for me this morning, and I was even more pissed off than usual at society’s obsession with women reaching “thin” status.

Here’s the thing: I’m not saying that it’s healthy to be obese or even overweight.  But I can guarantee that what’s at least as unhealthy (if not more so) than having pounds to lose is beating yourself up over the fact that you don’t look like what society says you should look like.  If you ask me, it’s the beating ourselves up and trying to reach what is in many cases an unrealistic goal that is making us fatter, and worse, mentally and emotionally battered.

I’m never going to be a size two (or even a four, six, or probably eight for that matter), unless I adopt an eating and exercise regime that simply takes over too much of my life for my liking. Extremes have never appealed to me, so the idea of exercising and eating well in balance and moderation is really the only strategy that I’ll happily stick to for the rest of my life.  Plus, this means that I can occasionally have Oreos with breakfast like I did this morning. But I wonder: if I were plagued by the thinking that affects many people, would my depression over not being an ideal weight lead to overeating and additional weight gain? I believe it likely would, and I think that’s the problem for a lot of people.

If someone agrees with society’s ideal and wants to put in the work to get there and stay there, then I’m all for it.  What I’m really pissed about is that I wonder if most people really stop to think about what their own ideal is.  This is so very important.  Your life is your own, after all.

Somehow, even though I’ve never been skinny, I don’t have body image issues.  ALL of my friends are skinnier than me (with some being significantly more so), and they are all beautiful, I might add; but I never feel “less than” because of that.  My self worth is in no way tied to the pant’s size that I wear.  But I’m very aware that this is not the case for, I daresay, most women.  I don’t know how I got this way, and if I did, I would bottle whatever it is up and sell it, for sure.  Actually, I’d happily give it away for free.

So, where does someone like me (and probably a lot of other people) fit into the equation?  I want to be fit and healthy, and I am.  But, society might not agree given my jean size.  Am I to give up the good fight and let myself dive into overeating at the risk of becoming obese because I’ll never reach their ideal?  Or am I to forego the occasional Oreos breakfast and occasional decadent dinner with friends so that I can eke a few more pounds off the scale? Pardon the bluntness, but fuck no.  And you shouldn’t either. 

Even though I can’t bottle up my way of thinking, I can speak to others who may struggle with their weight – be they a size zero or size 22.  Don’t ever let someone else make you feel less than.  Don’t ever let your weight dictate who you are.  You are so much more than the number on the scale or the size sewn into your jeans.   Make the best decisions you can, and honor your body by giving it the nutrition and exercise it needs.  But don’t deprive yourself of the occasional dessert breakfast just to please other people.  Because at the end of the day the old saying is absolutely true: you can’t please everyone, so you might as well please yourself.  And on the days when you do feel less than perfect (as we all do once in a while), know that you are at least perfect to me.