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I am fat. Not fat, fat, but fat enough to pass up the junior-miss department with a sigh. Why is that such a hard thing to admit? Anyone looking at me can tell that the sand in my hourglass has settled at the bottom. So why is that such an uncomfortable statement to make? Perhaps it’s because I was slender once.
Throughout my teens and early twenties, it’s true I was thin. Probably too thin even. Of course, I wasn’t smart enough at the time to enjoy it while it lasted. People would cast envious stares at me and say things like, “I bet you can eat whatever you want too, huh?”
The simple answer was, “Yes”.
I was thin and I could eat what ever I felt like. If that meant a quarter pounder with cheese, large fries and a giant soda, followed by a huge bowl of ice cream late at night, it didn’t matter. I was thin. That’s how I’d always been. That’s how I’d always be.
Or so I thought.
As a teen, I was what some people would call ‘flat chested’. I’d call it more like ‘non existent chested’. I actually desired to be fat, just long enough to get a couple of lumps in the right places. Then I’d simply lose the weight while keeping the much-desired ‘lumps’.
I had no idea what I was wishing.
Well, I got my lumps. And then some. And some more. Now I don’t even recognize myself. When I catch a glimpse of my reflection I wonder, “When did my gut get as big as my butt?”
The whole thing is thoroughly depressing.
New Year’s Resolutions were always a joke to me, something I would never need to do. Until now. This year I resolved that I would finally take action and lose weight. I’m tired of feeling unhappy and uncomfortable with myself. I want to be at home in the skin I’m in.
As I began my new eating plan, I became more aware of the food choices I make every day. I started concerning myself with calories, carbohydrates, fat, and nutrition in general.
No wonder I’m not comfortable in my body, I've been filling it with junk!
There’s no way I could conquer all my bad eating habits on my own, so I turned to the one source that I knew wouldn’t fail me. No, not some weight loss center; I turned to God.
I prayed for help to get back into a wiser eating routine, so that I could not only lose weight, but also become healthier. As I prayed, my thoughts naturally turned spiritual and I realized that I’m not the only one that needs to be at home in my skin; the Holy Spirit lives there too.
If I want Christ to reside in me, shouldn’t I make the home spiritually inviting? That would require eliminating anything that would grieve the Holy Spirit, which made me think about what I’d been putting into my body through my eyes and ears, not just my mouth. Would the Holy Spirit really enjoy hanging around with that movie on? Would Jesus really sing along to that song?
No amount of Haagen-Dazs or Oreos will ever make me feel content, if the true void that needs filling is in my soul. I need to stop saving room for dessert and start making room for ‘soul food’. Then I will begin to feel full-not full of sweets and salty delights, but in truly satisfying ways.
So yes, I’m fat. I may still be fat a year from now. Maybe even two, but somehow I doubt it. As I feed on wholesome snacks-like daily quiet time and devotionals, I think I’ll find that I’m feeling full with out all the food.
Maybe my next article will be called, “Dessert? No thanks, my spirit’s full.”
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