The assurances of the genuinely fat are not adequate, it seems, to tell the trim yet insecure to stop hating their bodies.

Of course, they aren’t alone in that. I hate my body.

There’s no insecurity that I don’t already possess. If someone says something thoughtless(or deliberately hurtful, though that’s not so common), it’s not a new thought they bring up. It’s an old one, a very old one. Just a reminder. I’ve got enough insecurities that I sometimes need that little help remembering them all.

I already know that I’m fat.

And I have oddly tiny ears.

And a bulbous nose.

And uncontrollable hair.

Hearing about them does seem to give them more power, but that’s only for a moment. It’s like it’s saying “Oh yeah, all the things that I believe about myself are right.” I’m reaffirmed in my beliefs.

But sidelong glances don’t MAKE new insecurities. It just validates them.

For now I remind myself that my body does amazing things for me, and I call that good enough. I’m picking my battles.