I think about fat probably more than most people and probably more than I should.
I think about being fat, eating fat, burning fat, good fat, bad fat, blood fat, milk fat, butterfat, sat fat, trans fat, poly fat, mono fat, cooking fat—tallow, butter, lard, ghee, fatty meat—plant fat, fake fat, crude fat, brain fat, blood fat, liver fat, and why in the hell we store fat in pockets and rolls that look like saddle bags, thunder thighs, and double or triple chins.
I feel like I could write a whole book about fat and how it impacts every part of our lives and still not know how to lose it off my own body.
Even knowing most of it is expelled through breath, and doing lots of yoga, cardio, and mindful meditation, there are still a lot of places on my body it loves to collect—and won’t leave.
Working so hard at getting unwanted parts of me off while still loving myself is the epitome of self-love... you have no idea how much I hate my spare tires, muffin tops, and bat wings.
I have been trying to butter it up to get it loose—like you use fat to get sticky stuff off a bottle if you don’t have any Goo Gone.