As I stand in the kitchen, my sturdy thighs gently brushing against each other beneath my skirt, I’m methodically working the pre-made pizza dough from that meal kit service I decided to try after scoring a free week with a coupon. You know the type: the fancy “Cook at Home” boxes that promise healthy meals but often end up being a little too pricey to keep up with.
The meals are marketed as “healthy” and “vegetarian,” though I’ve learned that these terms don’t always align. As someone who mostly embraces vegetarianism while striving to be health-conscious, I find it a challenging balance.
I genuinely want to be healthy. I try my best. My diet leans heavily on cheese, Brussels sprouts, and spinach. I scrutinize ingredient labels and often put back the bread that starts with the word “enriched.” Every morning, I whip up a vibrant green smoothie, blending chia seeds and flax while relishing the texture and color. I envision those antioxidants zipping through my veins, making me feel empowered.
Yet, I indulge in dessert too—it’s hard to resist! You can probably gauge my love for sweets by observing how my thighs fit snugly together. Or perhaps you notice my fondness for brie in the soft jiggle of my upper arms, the part that waves long after I’ve said goodbye. If you’re someone who judges based solely on appearances, you might scrutinize every visible inch of me.
But what about the spinach? Do you see the way I care for myself? Can you witness my love for flax seeds in the strength of my back? What about the shine in my eyes or the thickness of my hair that flows down my back? Can you recognize my strong bones and the healthy half-moons of my nails?
It’s disheartening to think that some people equate my worth—and health—with the size of my body. Does being a size 12, 14, or 16 truly define my vitality? Many seem to believe that the number on my bathing suit holds more significance than the results from my doctor’s tests. It’s as if modern beauty standards overshadow what truly matters: health.
If you’re the type who judges by appearances, then we might not be on the same wavelength. My concern lies with your health. However, it’s also about how you perceive me—whether I’m singing karaoke in a dress, ordering spaghetti in comfy pants, or enjoying my vibrant green bathing suit at the beach.
What you don’t realize when you look at me is that I am strong. I can teach an 8-year-old how to ride a bike in a single afternoon and carry multiple grocery bags in one go. My mind, fueled by flax seeds and the occasional chocolate croissant, crafts essays about life, love, and everything in between.
Sure, my thighs may touch when I knead pizza dough, and there are days when I’m the only one strong enough to pop open a jar of dill pickles. Once, I even carried a heavy bed up two flights of stairs all on my own. Yet, none of these accomplishments can be seen in the soft flesh above my knees.
What truly matters is how I carry myself. A girl at the beach once whispered, “I like that fat girl’s bathing suit!” as I walked by. I swam far out, letting the waves drown her words, before paddling back. I am that woman in the emerald bathing suit—like a mermaid gliding gracefully through the water.
As I made my way back to my spot on the sand, I kindly told her, “They only make this suit for fat girls.” Her cheeks flushed, but I smiled at her, understanding that perhaps she hadn’t meant any harm. Sometimes, the careful expression of my thoughts and the measure of my character far outweigh the size of my hips. If only more people were willing to see beyond what’s on the surface.
For more insights on health, check out our other blog posts, including one about the importance of wellness in the journey to parenthood. You can find excellent resources for pregnancy and home insemination at Hopkins Medicine and learn about various options at Make a Mom.
In the end, my worth is not defined by the number in my swimsuit but by the strength of my spirit and the love I share with the world.