Monday, December 29, 2014


So, this happened and I've been  trying to process it.

Someone told me recently that I was "normal sized".

I don't know what I said. Probably nothing because...what do you say? Thanks? Piss off?  YOU DON'T KNOW MY LYFFFFFFFFFE?!?!?!

I don't know.

What I do know is I am almost equal parts happy and outraged.

I'm embarrassed to admit the "happy" part. Seriously. I mean, it's stupid. It's a stupid thing to say. What the Hell is "normal" anyway? Who decided what is normal?

At the same time, I've spent most of my teenage/adult years wishing I could blend into the woodwork. Wishing I could stand next to my beautiful friends and not be the biggest girl in the picture. Wishing I wasn't "the fat one".

So that part of me thinks, "Oh yay. I'm normal."

That lasts about 2.2 seconds and then? The rest of me is enraged. Furious. Teary-eyed.

Because it is so ridiculous. SO. RIDICULOUS. There is no such thing as "normal sized". I haven't busted my ass lo these many years for you to continue to judge me, even if your judging is now "positive". There is no "normal sized". It doesn't exist.

 I still have weight to lose. I still have work to do. I'm not "finished" and frankly, I don't know how anyone ever is. I don't know how it would be to just be like, "I'm okay now. I'm done. I can stop thinking about this ever single second of every single day."

Because that's what it's really about, you know? It's not about what size is on my pants, it's not about how I look in a dress, it's not about what the number on the scale says. It's still, and forever has been, about how I feel about myself.

Which, clearly, is not "normal".

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