I am 230-something pounds. It has been a lifelong struggle to love this body. And every time I hear a thinner woman have such struggles too, my heart just breaks for them. I can’t believe society has told all of us (yes, men too) to feel so ashamed of ourselves. 

And yet… is my life really that bad? 

Is my heavyset life that horrible that girls and women everywhere will hate themselves, starve themselves, cry themselves to sleep… just to avoid looking like… me? 

But I’m here. Here I am. I’m the thing that everyone doesn’t want to be. And I’m being it. And I am alive. And I am awake. I am connected. I am healthy. I have friends. I go out on dates. I go to the gym regularly. I get to do some cool shit professionally and artistically. I’m living a life people would kill for. 

Well, except for the whole weight thing. 

I have days — months, sometimes — where I struggle with loving myself. I have days — months, sometimes — where I am on top of the world and loving every moment I have consciousness. And I hear that women of every weight experience these highs and lows too. 

So, is my life really what everyone is scared of? 

When women say they don’t want to be fat, do they not want to be me? 

Because I’m alive, and worthy of that life. I am love and I’m worthy of that love. I’m good. Life is good. The body I live with, she is good. 

It’s not that awful to be me. 

It’s beautiful.

I'm about to redefine what perfect means to me. I do it every day, and I'm going to do it again.

What does perfect mean to you?