September 23, 2016

An Open Letter to the Men who Couldn’t Love Me because of my Weight.

courtesy of author, Emily letorney

The Simple Truths of a 32-year-old Mom.

I gained this weight making beautiful things.

Not because of depression, or hating myself, but by bringing life into the world. I’m about to be honest with you and, more importantly, with myself.

I take responsibility for taking the opinions of those I cared about into consideration so much that I let them hurt me slowly. I let them rip at me. I let myself believe them.

I let myself feel like I wasn’t enough.

That little bit of weight I needed to lose turned into insecurities. It turned into self-loathing. It turned into me not seeing my real self in the mirror—me walking with my head down in the grocery store, or with tears in my eyes at the gym burning 1,200 calories.

I was told to remember to love myself.

So, I’m getting my body healthy, but not for a man’s approval. I’m doing it to feel confident everywhere I go. Like I used to. I’m doing it so I can outrun my three-year-old. And teach him smart choices in a lazy world full of poison and processed foods. I’m doing it for everyone who at one point or another felt unworthy; I’m doing it to show my son that he should always love himself.

I lost my way, and although I know my body and face are not who I am or what makes me beautiful, feeling good from the inside out is honoring myself.

I forgive the people who could never see me. I’m grateful, for I find the deepest strength alone, at the bottom of a dark hole. With everything around me in pieces, I turn the pieces into tools and climb that hole. I won’t stop when I’m out; I’ll climb the mountain next to it.

In this time of learning to love myself, I accept my flaws and weaknesses and embrace my strengths. In my process, I’ve realized what I don’t want, too. I remember what I deserve.

Primal attraction is great, but that’s not what we look at when we’re 82 years old with hair growing out of our ears. That’s what I’m looking for: someone to be 82 with, accepting and compassionate and caring. I don’t want to worry about losing my lover because I break my leg and gain 15 pounds. I never want to question where I stand with anyone. So I will be alone as long as it takes, and I will take as long as I need to remember who I am.

If nobody can care for me—even when I’m lost, even when they aren’t perfect themselves and also lost—so be it. I have an amazing son, friends, and myself. I want to be loved for me being courageous, for wanting to change the world—not because I wear a size three.

I’m not going to waste any more of my life on anything or anyone who cannot see my value beyond the size of my clothes. For that is not how to measure true worth.

I am not just a pretty face. I am not just going to be another fit body for you to stare at. I am profoundly beautiful—in my words, in my immeasurable strength. In my courage. In my kindness. In my heart that remains pure after being hurt 1,000 times. You can not take that from me, or change that.

I have a deep purpose.

I am here to make the f***ing ground shake!

Thank you for reminding me.


Author: Emily Letorney

Images: Author’s Own

Editor: Toby Israel


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