The body is a funny thing: so many cells doing their various jobs nonstop, regenerating, and making us who we are. I am slowly coming into my body and welcoming the idea that the Liturgists Podcast touched on this season: “embodiment”. My body is not just a holder of my soul. It is me. My selfhood is in my body and my body is so gracious and good to find clever ways of continuing to do its job even when I don’t treat it well, when I lack boundaries, when I shame myself at the sight of more body. How good and wonderful my body is. How good and wonderful I am.
And this claim of goodness has to include the extra fat that wasn’t there one year ago and that I could have never imagined two years ago. Those cells carry the very existence of a whole season of my life and I firmly believe I need to process that season and be grateful for the way that fat has helped me. It feels strange to talk about, but let’s consider this an ode to fat, one in which I hope to express no self-pity nor attract sentiments of about my outward beauty.
This year held a season where many days after 10 hours of work I’d drive away from school, defeated and with a string of swear words coming off my tongue. I’d make it home to flop on my bed, with no psychological capacity to even imagine the possibility of getting up. The mental capacity needed to get up and decide what to eat was too much for me many days and left me not eating or making my favorite instant noodles (Mama Oriental Kitchen Mi Goreng). Or, on a better day, I’d self medicate with Reese's peanut butter cups and all the liberal comedians I could get my hands on to counterbalance my exhaustingly conservative work environment. The lack of movement, hours on my ass in meetings and responding to emails, the Reese's cups and MSG-filled noodles make the fat that is now along my thighs, newfound lovehandles, and easily disguised double chin. This fat on my body holds the hours, days, and months of a hard season of life that I not only survived, but that I think I did my best in and that I see as being instrumental in growth and understanding that I now have.
By no means do I hope to face challenges in the same way next time and I think this season has given me the understanding I need to make different choices in the future and to ask for help in better ways. I have learned more about food and its impact on cellular regeneration, psychological health, and mental capacity. I have also learned about the unnecessary stress I put on myself and the places I hustle in to find my worth, two things which will surely lead to my demise if I don’t uproot these weeds of lies in my heart.
But the fact that I gained weight in this process of learning and growing and being challenged is embarrassing to me. While I’m sure any friends would roll their eyes and remark on how “you’re not fat!”, my old uncle neighbor knows the truth and even commented to me the other day as I walked by, “Wow, you’ve gotten so fat. Aren’t you exercising anymore?!” I can no longer button the slacks I wore in August and am at the point where I am tired of elastic skirts and wondering whether it is worth the finances to buy new clothes that fit. And if it is, then what do I do with my clothes in the smaller size? Honestly, I fear that buying clothes that fit me comfortably will make me complacent to stay this size.
But what is wrong with this size? What is wrong with having extra fat?
Somewhere deep in me is the belief that fat equals bad equals not caring for one’s body equals not taking care of the temple of God. And when a transcendent God who holds the keys for life and everlasting death gets involved, things quickly become more serious and carry more shame for me.
I feel deeply bad for having extra fat on my body. Somewhere in my psyche, my size connects to my self-worth. But there’s this internal battle going on in my mind, because at the same time, I am learning such beautiful self-love and freeing embodiment. While I want to take care of my body, I know if I set myself mainly on losing fat, then I set myself on losing and denying a part of myself. I’ll lose the acceptance of where I’ve been and the reality of what that has looked like. If I make it a goal to only lose this fat, I miss the bigger picture of health.
So while I am continuing on the journey in healthful being and I long to be healthy, I see this as being so much more than a size of clothing or making my silhouette an hourglass again. My health is in my mind, my heart, my schedules, my toes, my dinner plate, and my relationships. My health is finding my very self to be home.
