“Mom, am I fat?”
My body freezes while my distracted mind chokes and sputters into high gear. I knew this moment was coming but I didn’t think it’d come so soon. I look down at you, with your tutu and pirate eye patch, your sword in one hand, magic wand in the other. Your one visible and crystal clear eye looking back up at me.
I stumble over all the things I’m supposed to say, hands still dripping with soapy water from the sink. Body positivity. All bodies are good bodies. This is how the body works; bones, ligaments, muscles.
I quickly lose you and you kindly say “ok mama!” before skipping off to slay some princes and make the dragon your pet.
But you, my little girl, deserve a better answer.
So here it is.
Are you fat?
When you were born, I had no idea how much you weighed. I’m sure someone told me. I’m sure it’s written down somewhere. But I was too busy staring into your face to care. Even though it was so small, I couldn’t take it all in at once. Each tiny, perfectly sculpted detail had to be admired individually. A whole human being suddenly there, in arms that were empty just a moment before. I was in awe. I still am.
Are you fat?
The first time you saw the ocean, you ran straight for it. On still wobbly legs. A force of nature meeting a force of nature.
I took you to a rock climbing gym when you were three. You made it to the top of the wall before I even had both feet off the ground.
Each night, you make us check for monsters in your room. One night, after checking yet again, I went to take off your socks and found a toy knife stuffed into one of them. Those monsters don’t stand a chance.
Are you fat?
Some people don’t believe time travel exists. To that I say those people have never tried my grandma’s fudge. She made it every year at Christmas and it tasted like everything right in the world. She died before you were born but a few years ago, my aunt Joan sent me a batch of fudge she laboriously made using the same recipe. Suddenly I was right back there, in my grandma’s living room on Christmas Eve, surrounded by family, everything loud, chaotic, bright. Happy.
It was one of the best gifts I ever received.
Are you fat?
Speaking of food, the three best meals I’ve ever had are, in no particular order:
An authentic Irish breakfast at a tiny table outside a tiny cafe in Dublin two years ago
Fried chicken and warm bread from some small, nameless place in Panama when I was 16
Cold leftovers from our wedding dinner at midnight, eaten in bed with my new husband
I don’t know if the food was actually that good. But the memories they are connected to are priceless.
Are you fat?
There will come a day when your heart will break. It’s not just a saying. When it happens you will feel it actually break. Your hands will go to your chest as you try to catch the pieces until you look down and realize you can’t.
There will also come a day when that same heart will swell with joy until you are certain it will burst. You cannot believe how much a heart can hold until this moment. You will bring your hands to your chest again, so as to make sure you can catch it should your body be unable to contain its power.
This is what it means to be alive. So far, in my experience, it’s all been worth it.
But are you fat?
By now you’re probably wondering why I’m refusing to answer this question. Or perhaps you’re beginning to suspect I don’t understand what you’re asking.
But I know this question. I know this question intimately. And I refuse to let another one of us fall victim to it. I refuse to watch as yet someone else allows herself to get so hungry that the salt from her tears tastes delicious.
When I die this question dies with me. I will drag it, screaming and raging, to my grave, clutching it tightly to my decomposing body until I am finally the bones it always told me to be. Bones that are now a cage of its own making.
And you. You, my beautiful summer-scented tangled freckly wilding daughter, will never have to waste a moment of your big, beautiful life with it haunting you.
Are you fat?
We aren’t asking that question anymore. Are you kind? Are you adventurous? Do you feel loved? Safe? What are you capable of? What do you want? Are you afraid but doing the damn thing anyway? These are questions that are worthy of you.
The only thing I want you to worry about is if you are full. Full of life, full of laughter, full of joy, full of experience, full of wonder. And yes, full of mouthwatering, flavorful, fragrant food. You deserve nourishment in every form. Let me say that again because you’ll forget. So many of us forget, myself included.
You deserve nourishment in every form.
So, are you fat?
There are few titles more powerful than that of cycle-breaker. That’s us. You and me. It ends with us. The only thing you have to be in this world is yourself. Unabridged. Unabashed. Unencumbered.
In a world that makes you ask if you are fat, defy them all and simply be overflowing with everything you are.
Chick Writes Stuff 