Beautiful And Chubby

Every edition of you is stunning. From this small fat woman that always seemed different, to the fat teenager looking for approval, to the woman with “ a lot potential ” that took herself back for so long. I like all of you though I know I wasn’t doing this. Then I apologize for not knowing you with all the beauty, all the spirit, all your love, all the ideal, specific traits. The passion I get for you is unending and keeps rising. You are the charming woman, and all the dreams are coming true because I last believe you.

There was a female who had large floppy ears, tiny eyes, fat body, and a small height – all body parts that would have defined her equally horrible, the object of ridicule, and a caricature of herself. Will you imagine her entering the “beauty” competition that needed symmetry? She could have been laughed to despise. Yet, to see her was to find something remarkable – the beautiful radiating love that transcended physical structure. She was lovely! The heart is the essence of the appearance. As you get on the organization, the appearance can be realized in proportion to the quality you do for yourself, your family, your friends, the people, and thus for the world. (the quality for some might be simply being – unable to do, but simply being. Those who know woman can find the stationary, even, beautiful existence.) The beauty is the light that can shine through you and take people to your job and into the spirit – the existence of a great life.

You are lovely. Every single females out there wants to learn that she is lovely. The personal characteristics of you doesn’t play a role in appearance. It doesn’t count if you don’t get make-up on, or you’re non voluptuous, or fat, or thin, or the front constitutesn’t clean, or your skin is messed up, or you have acne, or having ugly freckles, or glasses, Or wears, or anything else that you take end to yourself at this mirror telling you that you are not sufficient. You ARE decent.

Chubby. It’s such a difficult language. It doesn’t take this weight of fat, and doesn’t require the same people as thin. It’s the language that gets trailed behind me since childhood. This difficulty with being fat is that you’re not sufficient of any one situation. Growing up, I was always seen in oblivion. I wasn’t white plenty to take American, and I wasn’t brown plenty to remain Indian. I didn’t get these grades to be a nerd, but I wasn’t careless enough to stay fashionable. My metric was simply another contradiction to my existence. But I do wish we could make up a couple of things about being fat, beginning with the explanation itself.

On the first day, the person tells you you’re attractive — I see a fat look. You feel the fat face flush red with shame as you think the fat appearance of the baby. You think when the clavicle dropped in sharper relief, when the cheekbones jutted out only then. You long to move to the white construction of the seductress, not rounded edges of the fat look. He likes you, but you grow lost, drifting on the sea of learned hatred. I’m having so fat has little to do with the body, shaped in the mirror, and more to do with the government of the time. The thinner body would’ve guaranteed the less rough romantic relationship, steadier friendships, greater prosperity, the constant hum of static feeling. Those last 5, 10, 20 lbs, you’ve been said, are the only obstacle between you and the living well lived. Weight loss is the way from the gloomy Kansas to the Technicolor Oz.