Hi! Man, it’s hot in Buffalo, NY today!
Since I’m taking off on a writerly jaunt tomorrow, I cleaned out the car. I even vacuumed it. While I was getting under the passenger seat, and my butt was hanging out and up-in-the-air for all the construction workers building my neighbor’s new patio to ignore, I had a deep thought.
I’m raising young women, and it’s a life goal of mine to raise them to love their bodies whatever shape they become. Last night I snapped a photo of my daughter and I lounging on the couch reading. She looked at it and said, “I look fat.” I stared back at her, a half-dozen responses rolling through my brain. What was the right one? How am I supposed to know? I spent decades hating my body, and sometimes I still think I’m fat.
I can’t remember what I said to her, but that moment must have kept rattling around in my mind because I found myself wondering how my healthy ass looked while I was upside-down vaccuuming my Jeep. Because there is such a thing as “fat”, (is obese a more PC word?), and if a doctor suggests you should lose weight, you should probably do it, if s/he is a good doctor. But you should do it for the health of your heart, not the size of your ass.
I will tell her that next time. ❤