I wish I were the type of person who felt empowered enough to embrace the plus-sized body I’ve had since my teenage years.
I wish I could truly believe that big can be beautiful, and that I could be beautiful at any size.
I wish I had conviction behind mentally telling the world to fuck off for treating me and anyone else differently because of weight.
I wish I wouldn’t freeze in mortification at the thought of a seatbelt extender on an airplane or roller coaster, even though those days are behind me.
I wish I could permanently silence the nagging voice in the back of my mind that never allows me to 100% focus on a conversation if I’m sitting in a chair that has the slightest chance of breaking under me.
I wish the memories of a morbidly obese life would stop haunting me like threatening ghosts that can reanimate at any time.
I wish I had an easy relationship with mirrors, which are lying when I look bad and lying when I look good.
I wish I felt confident enough to have a take-it-or-leave-it attitude toward others who judge me for being fat.
I wish I could really be OK if they choose “leave it.”
I wish I knew how to overcome my own shame and disgust at my body and allow myself to have a relationship.
I wish I believed inner beauty was enough.
I wish I didn’t have to be so strong to be happy.
I wish I didn’t have to work so hard to be strong.
I wish I didn’t have to hide myself to work so hard.
I wish I didn’t think I had to hide myself.
I wish society didn’t make me think I ever had to hide myself.
I wish I didn’t kind of agree with society.
I wish I had always been thin.
I wish I didn’t believe being thin was the key to everything.
I wish I could start over again.
I wish I didn’t have to start over again from here.
I wish to be better.
I wish to do better.
I wish to empower myself through succeeding.