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It has been a lifelong struggle for me to love and accept the reflection I see in the mirror every day. I have come a long way from the self-critical young woman who tried every fad diet and would do almost anything to lose weight, but from time to time I still have to remind myself that I am more than my body. Our worth does not come from our weight, I’ll say that again to affirm it: Our worth does not come from our weight! I am thankful that my husband Eric has always been vocal about thinking I am beautiful and sexy at any size, but I needed to believe him. When I finally came to a place in myself where I could accept the fact that his love for me is unconditional, it allowed our connection to become much deeper. —Jessica Simpson, guest editor, the Honesty Issue
“You’re gonna get bored with Anastasia because she’s fat,” the mother of someone I went out with told him—to which he responded, “I mean, honestly, you’re right.” He looked me in the eye as he casually recounted their exchange. I was frozen as I listened to him. Hearing him agree with his mother’s fat-phobic rhetoric made me nauseous. We’d been dating for a while. Had he felt this way the entire time?
Being fat means constantly internalizing messaging about your desirability and worth—or lack thereof. Dating is tricky enough, but breaking up as a fat woman presents its own challenges. I’ve been through my fair share, but hearing a lover share his family's negative opinion of my body was particularly shitty. It was the first time I realized that someone could claim to love me and still harbor fat phobia. I’d always wondered whether my weight bothered him. I reassured myself that we were in love, though I always heard his mother’s words in the back of my mind. Did I have some expiration date because I was fat?
This same boyfriend accompanied me to the E.R. once when I was really sick. The doctor had me step onto the scale and called my weight—285—aloud to the nurse. I was shocked by the number, and so was my boyfriend. I could see the horrified reaction on his face as he turned to me and said, “Honestly, I’ve noticed that you’ve gained weight.” I was too tired and weak to respond. But mostly I was humiliated because I believed he was right. I believed I should be ashamed of the number on the scale. Eventually I got a lap-band surgery to help me lose weight, convinced I needed to take drastic measures. It made my life miserable. I was in pain often, and in the end it didn’t help me lose weight. I had paid to have myself literally cut open because I believed I had to lose weight to be loved fully. I believed I had to lose weight to avoid being dumped.
We dated for a long time after the surgery before he unceremoniously dumped me. As unexpected as it was at that moment, a part of me wasn’t surprised. I believed a breakup had been inevitable. If I was thinner, he’d still be in love with me and everything would be okay. But his mom was right, I had officially reached my expiration date.
This is the delusional rhetoric I fed myself for most of my adult life. I should have broken up with that guy the first time he made negative comments about my weight. But I stayed with him because I believed he was just telling me the truth. I subscribed so deeply to self-hate that I stayed with a man who made me feel like shit about myself. In the end I moved on, but the specter of that breakup lingered for a long time. I spent the next several years either single or giving my body to people who didn’t deserve me, constantly aware of the idea that being fat made me unworthy of a partner.
I’d meet guys who, after months of dating, would say, “I’d love to be your boyfriend, but you need to lose weight.” I felt defeated and worthless for a long time.
It’s not like these beliefs came from nowhere. We all know the vitriol is everywhere. And that fat-shaming is often (poorly) disguised as concern. It’s ingrained in movies and advertising, and worse, it can often come from our own loved ones. I recently posted a photo of myself online, where I received comments like “Imagine having such little control over your eating habits that you need strangers to glorify your cottage cheese thighs” and “How is 10 years from death a hot thing?” The unfortunate truth is that people are very quick to reinforce this messaging. It’s almost like society collectively took a pledge to ensure fat shame endures.
The more I started to think about it, the more upset I became. Sure experience has shown me that there are shitty, confused guys out there. But that’s not my problem. How people (who often are unhappy themselves) feel about my body is not my problem. I am the only one whose opinion matters. Yet I stayed with my ex-boyfriend longer than I should have. I stayed when I should have left and chosen myself. I bargained for affection and let men determine when a relationship ended. In fact, until recently, I had never dumped someone.
I used to think relationships were something to be held on to at all costs because I was afraid I’d never find someone who could really love me. The truth is the size and shape of my body has zero bearing on the longevity of my relationships. If a guy dumps me, I realize it’s his loss—getting dumped by some idiot who can't appreciate all this cake is actually a blessing. Please dump me if you hate my body. Because if you don’t, I will.
I don’t hate my body. How can I hate what has allowed me to do so many things in life? It’s not flawed; it’s a thing of magic. It deserves nothing less than reverence. So now I date only men who celebrate me—not in spite of or because of my weight. I make decisions about relationships in accordance with how I feel. I don’t stay because I’m afraid there are no other options.
Our bodies, no matter the size, don’t make us fundamentally flawed or fundamentally worthy. Our worth reaches far beyond the number on a scale or the size of our dress. Some people say beauty is skin-deep, but I say beauty is what you believe. Once I was able to look in the mirror and see everything about me that was unique and beautiful…I knew. I’m not getting dumped because I’m fat. Relationships end when they’ve run their course. And no matter what, I’m continuing to move forward.
Anastasia Garcia is a photographer and body-positive activist in New York City. She is currently working on her first novel detailing her dating experiences as a fat woman. Follow her on Instagram @anastasiagphoto.
