







Over the last few years, I've received countless letters, read hundreds of comments, and listened to many, many, many women (and men) speak about how they feel like they might never find love... all because of their body.



It's heartbreaking to hear, but god, how I get it.

I've been there too.



I know that hopelessness. The resignation to a life without. I know the things you tell yourself to make it seem not so bad. The blind eye you turn to the happiness around you because it's too painful to watch. I know the promises you make to yourself; promises that you'll change your body so you can become lovable. I know the anger that then rises up because- WAIT A MINUTE! I shouldn't have to change my body to be loved! But this is quickly overshadowed by a lifetime of shame that comes sweeping back and you once again buy the lie that you must change "for the better." You believe, deep down, that you must fix yourself to be desirable. I know this exhausting tug of war between wanting to be loved as you are, but also just wanting to be loved by anyone at all.



While on this body acceptance journey, I've learned many many many wonderful truths, but there is one in particular that has changed every facet of my life.



It's powerful. It's profound.

And it goes against everything we've been told:

Fat girls find love too.

They find the whole-mother-fucking-package kind of love. The no holds barred, every inch of you is perfect, kisses on what you thought was un-kissable, lifetime of yesses, lusting, loving, dedicated for life kind of love.



It happens. Often, and everywhere.

Now, I've been in terrible, horrible, no good, very bad relationships... just like everyone else.

You know the kind. The relationships that end with you on the couch dangerously bargaining with yourself; trying to convince god-knows-who that you'll make it right. It will be fine if I lose weight. He'll stay if I make changes. These changes are worth a relationship right? I'll just get skinnier... he'll stay and everything will be better. You sit on that couch, thinking that you can strike a deal with the Weight Loss Devil and that it will somehow save your relationship, even though there were countless other red flags along the way. These red flags ran much deeper than your looks (and you most likely knew a long time ago that it wouldn't work out) but in this moment, you have decided that the inevitable failure has everything to do with your body.

Because, yes, a lot of us find ourselves with toxic individuals, believing that emotional abuse is just part of the package. That we are lucky to have someone at all. That this was as good as it could get. That we should be grateful for the companionship because who else could ever love our imperfect body? Have you been there? Me too.

It was only at the end of the last painful breakup that I realized realized that this loveless relationship wasn't something I deserved.

It wasn't something I deserved, and it's failure didn't have anything to do with my body. His inability to have a relationship was not judgement on my figure. It wasn't a sign of my worth. And it wasn't something I needed to fix.

In that moment that I made an agreement with myself that I wasn't going to change anything for anyone. I wasn't going to change my morals, ethics, views on happiness...and most of all, I wasn't going to change my body.





After that decision, things shifted. I started dating. A lot. My dating handle was purposefully unapologetic... I dated under the name: SexyAndFat. I posted full body pictures. A lot of them. From all angles. I wore what made me feel like a babe. I accepted attention, respect, and adoration. I had decided that I was okay, and therefore I was. I worked on my emotional well-being. I surrounded myself with incredible people. My body advocacy skyrocketed. I started traveling. Loving. Enagaging. Giving. Receiving. Saying yes to the excellent and no to the sub-par. I started to love myself unconditionally. After that decision, things shifted. I started dating. A lot. My dating handle was purposefully unapologetic... I dated under the name: SexyAndFat. I posted full body pictures. A lot of them. From all angles. I wore what made me feel like a babe. I accepted attention, respect, and adoration. I had decided that I was okay, and therefore I was. I worked on my emotional well-being. I surrounded myself with incredible people. My body advocacy skyrocketed. I started traveling. Loving. Enagaging. Giving. Receiving. Saying yes to the excellent and no to the sub-par. I started to love myself unconditionally.

This sexy guy came into the picture later (in all his fucking magical glory), and I have a guess as to why the timing was just so. It has something to do with this marvelous quote:

















We accept the love we think we deserve.

And boy, do we ever.