The Weight Of It All

My weight has always been a part of who I am. Growing up as a chubby kid, I remember at 5 years old, asking my mother if I could go on a diet. I remember cutting out fat camp ads in the back of Tiger Beat Magazine hoping one day she would say yes. I envisioned going to fat camp like a fantasy vacation, if I could get there all my problems would be over.

Growing up as a dancer, being active has always been a natural part of my life. On average I work out 4 times a week. What I do changes; the gym, Tae bo, Barry’s boot camp or running but not working out has never been an option. I might be able to run faster and longer then my skinny friends but my athletic ability never equated to my size. No carbs, weight watchers, south beach. No matter what diet I tried, at 5’10 my weight always fluctuates between a size 10-12.

Frustrated without being able to be the size that I felt pretty, I went to a weight loss doctor, started taking diet pills and joined a rigorous workout series for four months straight and lost 35 pounds. The attention was addicting and the fact that I could try on pants without having to mentally prepare myself was liberating.

But as soon as I could no longer afford the pills and the workout classes and went back to my regular routine I started to put on the weight. There I was again, training for a half marathon and fitting into my “fat” jeans. Exhausted with never feeling alright with myself, I gave up trying to be a size and just focused on being healthy. When I focus on doing what I know keeps my happy, I feel good the majority of the time but recently when I was complaining to a guy friend about feeling invisible at bars in Los Angeles, he mentioned that I looked great when I lost all that weight and maybe I should do that again to boost my chances. In his defense, he didn’t know my history with weight or what I did to get to that size, all he knew was I looked “better” then, then I do now 12 pounds heavier.

Of course, it got me to thinking, how much does matter when you are single? I’m not talking about overweight vs. healthy but a size 8 vs. 10. Honestly, I think I attract the same amount of men that I did when I was thinner but could the type of men be different? And if that is the case, how much of who we are should we compromise for the chance of meeting someone? Knowing that weight and feeling good about who I am regardless of my size is an issue for me, how much do I sacrifice for the sake of being more attractive? Sure I could lose weight but is my happiness more important than the size of my jeans? Ultimately, aren’t I a better partner if I love myself unconditionally? I have been in a relationship where my size became a factor. Have I lost weight, gain weight, does he find me attractive were constant conversations in my head and ultimately part of our demise.

I’m not interested in playing the weight game anymore but I am aware that I do live in Los Angeles. Land of actresses and models. A place where a size 10 can sometimes be hard to find in my favorite boutiques. Am I playing myself by living and working in a place where size does matter and choosing not to play the game? I don’t want to leave Los Angeles but in the same breath, is my self-esteem worth being toyed with in my search of finding “Him”? Wearing a size 12, are my chances of finding someone slimmer (no pun intended) being a black woman working and socializing in the entertainment industry?

I got back and forth on this issue and then I see two people; overweight, skinny, young, old, holding hands walking down the street laughing and I think to myself, I want that. That unadulterated joy when none of the world around you matters. I’ve seen that joy in different sizes, shapes, and colors.

Maybe I’m playing myself but I am going to concentrate on loving me, and hopefully he wherever he is, is doing the same. And when we do find each other, hopefully our holding hands, walking down the street laughing, will inspire someone else to love themselves unconditionally also.