Lucky

Whether or not my body type is lucky is a matter of opinion. I carry weight easily, but I also tend to carry a lot of it, so the more traditional aesthetic sense might dictate unluckiness. But there are many reasons it is lucky: I am sturdy, I am naturally strong, I’ll hold up in a famine, I am rarely sick.

I am lucky to have my husband, who always tells me I am beautiful and cute and wonderful no matter what weight I am at. He is not naturally inclined toward large women, but he still seems to revel in my curviness and sturdiness. I love that he goes out of his way to make me feel like my rounded bits are appreciated, and that the lumpy bits are negligible. I also feel lucky that he is tall and sturdily constructed himself. I never feel that I’ll accidentally snap him like a twig. I can always lounge against him without worrying about hurting him. I haven’t ever had a person who was my safe place before, so far as body things go.

I am lucky that my two best friends understand weight. One is shorter than I am and from Polish peasant stock. She walks miles and miles every day and comes and goes from yoga, watches her food, but is never afraid of a piece of cake. The other is taller than I am and from German peasant stock. In the past year, she's worked out nearly every day and changed her eating habits, but she is never afraid of cake either. Lately we’ve been lunching every week. Some days we eat tofu and vegetables, and some days we eat pizza and garlic bread with cheese and brownies. All of us know that we will never be little girls, and all of us know that we are beautiful (across the board) and healthy (to varying extents).

I should remember all of this on the days when I don’t think my body is lucky, or that it brings me lucky things.