I am fat.

no, not voluptuous, not curvy, not simply plus-sized; i am fat.

I'm the fat y'all don't want; tall with long legs, a short, round torso with a gut farther than my titties, and long-ass arms.

my body hints at a past in sports and acceptable physical upkeep by the flex of arms, the strength in my back, the definition in my calves.

these wide shoulders on top of a wide back whose rolls will not be denied--

I. am. fat.

and beautiful.

not your soft, cup-the-face beautiful. the handsome beautiful. the kind that peels back and pulls you in. the kind that makes you stare, unsure of yourself and the definitions you thought you'd made up, but, baby, that's all television and photoshop and eurocentric standards--

that I will never meet.

and never want to.

I am fat and beautiful and I love myself in a way that you will never understand. I do not live, laugh, love. i do not claim positive vibes only. i am full human. I am trauma, I am pain, I am a growing sense of dread, but I am also--

laughter and joy and comfort.

you do not get to pick my labels. you do not get to judge me as contradictory. you do not get to tell me my own feelings.

I am fat and beautiful and worthy of love because I love myself. every roll, every hair, every bit of tears and hurt--

and growth.

I am me and it's about fucking time i own it.