I’ve reached a critical juncture in our relationship, and I need to share my feelings with you. I’ve tried to accommodate your requests to hit the gym together, and I’ve held my tongue when you scrutinized my dessert choices. I’ve shed tears in private when you questioned my cravings, all while attempting to view your concern for my well-being as a sign of love. But today, I can no longer pretend.
You must understand that I’ve never had a typical relationship with food. It’s essential for you to grasp this. While I’m more than willing to provide you with time to process and ask questions, I can’t keep explaining myself indefinitely. At some point, acceptance of this part of me is crucial.
Despite what you might think, I do not need you to oversee my health. I appreciate your desire for me to have a long life with you and our future children, but my health is robust. I navigate my daily life and physically demanding job with remarkable ease, and there’s no sign from any medical professional that I’m on the verge of a health crisis.
When you express your hopes for my health and longevity, it doesn’t inspire me; it overwhelms me. Your words become triggers for me. If you’re unsure what I mean by that term, I’m happy to elaborate. For example, suggesting I join you for a specific diet, like Whole30, doesn’t have the intended effect. You don’t need to justify its benefits to me; it’s the thought of another dieting regime that sends my mind racing.
As you grapple with fears about my weight, I am haunted by the memories of restrictive diets that I was warned against by professionals. An eating disorder isn’t merely a physical issue; it’s a mental health concern. So while you might see me as an unhealthy figure, you can’t possibly comprehend the battles my mind has fought nor the joy I now find in feeling secure at the dinner table.
I currently weigh 200 pounds, a weight I’ve come to embrace, and I’m not afraid of enjoying food anymore. I can sit and engage with others without obsessing over the last bite of bruschetta. I can move freely without counting calories. I wake up without dread about ruining a diet that I’m not even following. I can enjoy eggs with yolks!
What I cannot do is impose restrictions on myself ever again. I cannot tolerate comments about my eating habits or feel guilty for enjoying my food. I cannot be with someone who doesn’t celebrate my entire being.
If you don’t want all 200 pounds of me, then you simply cannot have any part of me. I’ve never been a small person, and I don’t aspire to be one. My personality has always been larger than life, and I’ve finally come to love that aspect of myself. I’ve tried to shrink myself in the past, and while I may have appeared thin, I was also lost, unwell, and unhappy.
I would choose to embrace my weight rather than conform to societal expectations of a woman’s body. I would rather be authentically myself than fit into a mold that the world has dictated is ideal. For a decade, I felt like a stranger in my own skin, constantly seeking to change it. Now, I finally feel at home.
You see a body that seems careless about its health; I see a body that is healing, strong, and powerful. We need to align our perspectives if we are to move forward together.
I am whole now, and I will not compromise any part of myself.
With love,
Your big lover (and I mean that in the most fabulous way).
Further Insights
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Conclusion
In summary, this letter conveys the importance of self-acceptance and the impact of external pressures on one’s mental and emotional health. It emphasizes the need for partners to understand and embrace each other’s identities fully.
Keyphrase: embracing body positivity
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