if you’re chubby & u know it, clap your hands *clapclap*

there’s been some debate going on this week, in regards to health in the Pagan community.

now, while i write for ThePaganHousehold.com biweekly, i felt the need to write my thoughts on that particular subject HERE vs. there.  no reason other than while i’m not anti-social, i AM, however, one of those annoying little shits that doesn’t work well in group settings.  what am i trying to say?  i hate being on-topic with current events yet can’t stand NOT to have my own two cents involved in them lolol!  there’s nothing complex about it; i’m just a simple creature who always likes to be at the opposite end of everything else going on. no clue why, it’s just how i’m built.

speaking of how i’m built, i’m going to keep it as realsies here as possible, in regards to my thoughts on health and weight not only in the Pagan community, but in the world today. i’m going to offend the shit out of some, and garner applause from others. so here goes NOTHIN…

i’ve ALWAYS been round, since the day i was born.  my mother called me her little chocolate butterball, because it’s what i looked like.  my mother was classic petite; small bone-structure, light golden-brown skin, HIGH-sharp-like-razors cheek bones and full lips kissed by the gods themselves.  her hair was long, fine and straight — jetblack, until she started letting it go naturally silver (we don’t grey, we SILVER in this family!!!).  she IS truly beautiful; brown-skinned but with the fine white features of some of our caucasion predecessors.

then comes the Old Man, my Pops.  tall, dark reddish brown skin.  BIG-BONED, 6’3” feet of pure native american height and body type…long arms, long legs; heavily curved spine and the “Williams’ curse” of a potbelly.  large nose, high cheekbones, and small almond shaped eyes from his native american grandfather and his african-born wife. he looked like his mother, vs. his father — the Creole; small-statured blackman who looked like a white man.

…I quite obviously took after my father’s side of the family, from day one.  my mother knew this, and worried about it from the day I was born.

i was kept on diets all my life, from the time i could eat solid foods because of my pot-belly.  i had long legs and arms; too long for my body by the time i hit puberty.  my mother knew that if she didn’t keep my eating in serious check, i would be bigger than the Empire State building lol.  and so began what years later, my therapy sessions STILL could never undo — SHAME.

Shame about my hereditarily endowed *gifts* of the infamous potbelly…Shame, about how over the summer between my 8th grade year and my Freshman year of highschool, I went from no breasts to a C-cup in one fell swoop…Shame, that I wasn’t 5’0 tall and 110lbs like my mother.  SHAME, that my skin was so dark and my features were sooo thick…big nose, full lips, legs muscled so thick I had to go up a jeans’ size every year primarily because my thighs wouldn’t fit.  Everytime I looked in the mirror, I saw UGLY.

My sophomore year, I attempted anorexia as well as bulimia…then, gained a complex about the fact that I was so uncommitted to ‘being thin’ that i didn’t stick with either for longer than a week.  Though I had been in ballet/jazz/gymnastics since I was 2yrs old, and been a cheerleader my first two years of highschool, I resented the fact that all the other girls stayed so thin yet I was always the Amazon; able to hold girls in the air with my hands or on my shoulders without much issue.  I resented the fact that while everyone else could just purchase their prom dress off of the rack, I had to go in four more times for fittings and order a special bra just to fit my tata’s into the bloody thing!  I had a woman’s body and a young girl’s shame about it.  And though my parents thought they were helping me by constantly reminding me not to eat this or that — in reality, they were just building upon the shame I had for my body, the utter disdain i had in my looks.  Why couldn’t I be small and pretty like my mother?

…Idiota.  !!!

Knowing what I know now, I know that I was beautiful.  I know that I AM, Beautiful.  I don’t care if it was 140lbs in highschool; 170lbs in college, 235lbs after giving birth, or the 190lbs (25lbs down and counting!) i find myself at today.  HEALTHY is beautiful.  When you eat with sense, vs. eat to comfort and fill a void — it’s beautiful.  Whether you exercise daily for 3hrs a day, or walk for 30minutes every other day like I do….it’s BEAUTIFUL.  When you look in the mirror, and see all the best pieces of your ancestors come together to make YOU…it Beautiful.  When you radiate light to others; when your deeds and the way you live your life reflects the goodness inside?  You’re Beautiful.

No scale on earth can judge that. No pounds lost or gained can rectify the absence of those qualities in a human being.  I don’t care if you have cottage cheese laden-thighs or a body like Megan Fox…i don’t care if you need a scooter to get around walmart because you’re too big to walk that far and breath, or you can run 10miles in 5mins…if you’re empty inside, if you’re VOID of the light, then you are UGLY to me. I’ve never seen people for what they look like…I’ve always seen them for who they are.  Some of the physically healthiest people in the world are some of the most soulless, devoid of light creatures I have ever encountered.  They’re more concered with the aesthetics of people and things around them than the deeds and creeds that they live by.  But I can also say that some of the most physically UNHEALTHY people are also some of the most soulless, devoid of light creatures I have ever encountered.  They are so self-absorbed by their own darkness, that they are paralyzed by it. Creature comforts (like food and laziness) are all that they seek to know.  They paralyze their own children, and their children’s children, by not concerning themselves with what they put into their bodies. I don’t care so much what a person does to themselves, but their progeny?  Making your children and grandchildren obese by CHOICE; choosing not to concern yourself because of your own laziness and gluttony?  THAT, i do have a problem with.

all in all, it’s a tight rope we walk as a society…what’s politically correct, what’s not.  what’s healthy, what’s unhealthy…when it comes to it, physically and aesthetically, it’s our deeds that make us live long, comfortable lives in my humble opinion.  deeds, after all, are choices.  some choices are inherintely right or wrong — all based on what their eventual outcome will be. somethings cannot be helped; with the question of healthy vs. unhealthy, i look to the examples of my hereditary ‘curses’ and realize that while some things can’t be changed they can always be improved upon by the way i CHOOSE to live my life.

until we meet again…