fat

I am fat. When I say this, I'm describing one particular aspect of myself. I am not criticizing or judging, nor am I inviting other people to do so or asking for assurances that I'm pretty. In my mind fat is a descriptor like any other. It is not a judgment.

I have a very active life. I skied almost every other day this winter, and had an eight hour ski patrol shift every Saturday. I walk everywhere it is practical to do so and some places it is not. My kayaking season started today and will last until it is too cold to do anything but look forward to skiing. My fat body can do all of these things as part of my routine.

I love the way the tan of my arms and shoulders fades into creamy skin underneath my shirt. I love the weight of my breasts in my hands. I love to watch my reflection move, my ample curves shifting in the mirror as I dance in my underwear. I love to feel my muscles tighten and relax when I swim.

Yes, I am bragging. Did you want to call me on it?

I am 5 foot 8 and 230 lbs. My measurements are 38D-36-46. I wear a size 16/18. Plus-size.

I forget that I am supposed to be ashamed of that until I go shopping. Silly me.