"You’re fat. You got fat."

As if I didn’t already know.
You're just saying it—but I’ve already seen myself in the mirror.
Every. Single. Day.
I live in this body. I carry its weight. I carry its strength.
You only glance at me. I endure this body every hour of my life.

My arms? They’re not flabby—they’ve held my fears, my triumphs, my truth.
My thighs? They’re not too big—they’re powerful, grounded, unshakable.

My waist might be bigger than a donut—but I love it.
My cheeks might be fluffy—at least I feel like a donut.
My tummy might be bloated—but hey, at least I’ve got volume!

And these marks? These changes?
My body got ocean waves from the transformation—from thin to fat.
These stretch marks? These lines? They’re not flaws.
They are my waves. My tides.
Proof that I am still unique in my own way, even if I gained weight.

You think you’re revealing something I haven’t noticed?
Please.
I’ve been here, watching my body shift through heartbreak, survival, stress, and healing.
And still—I rise in it. I breathe in it. I wear it with resilience.

You want me to feel shame.
But I feel power. Because I’m still here.
You want me to shrink. But I am done making myself smaller to fit into someone else’s shallow standard.

I am not made for your comfort.
I am not here for your approval.
If my body offends you?

Look away.

Because I’ve got waves, I’ve got history, I’ve got presence—
And no comment of yours can ever wash that away.

You try to throw shame like it’s a gift, like I’m supposed to take it and thank you.
But honey, I’ve outgrown the need for your approval.
I’ve got enough power in my softness. Enough light in my curves.

Honey, you do you! What makes you comfortable. Flaunt it.
Be it thin or fat or fit or chubby—love yourself!
Because this world doesn’t get to dictate your worth based on your waistline.

So if my body makes you uncomfortable?

That sounds like a you problem.

I’m not shrinking for anyone.
Not anymore.