Fat Martha

I originally posted this on my tumblr but the more I thought about it I realized it belonged here. Why hide on tumblr? I've always been open and honest so here is another open and honest piece. So DH keeps getting on to me about calling myself fat. He tells me I’m beautiful. I believe he is telling the truth according to his view point. He asked why I still don’t believe it. So why don’t I believe I’m beautiful? Good question and here are some thoughts: 1. If I’m beautiful then why didn’t anyone look like me on tv? I would think as least one show would feature a lady that is beautiful like me instead of just skinny hags. 2. If DH could only see the kids I get when I’m not next to him. The looks of disgust on many a person’s face. The whispers about how dare I wear x or y. 3. My mom on my birthday this year called me fat. This is pretty much a weekly occurrence, in my childhood it was closer to daily. It is so fucking hard to take that voice out of your head. So I’m beautiful, okay. I know many realities exist at once. In DH’s reality I’m beautiful. In my mom’s reality, I’m fat. In my reality, I struggle. Just a side note, my mom is great. I love her dearly and most of the time being called fat is more of a term of endearment. Being Mexican being called "Gordita" means more like I see you and love you the way you are instead of just meaning Fatty (which is the literally translation of the word).