Thin. Fat. Happy?

I read this article and didn't know how I felt about it.

So I asked you to read it.

And I'm still not sure how I feel about it. Maybe that's the point.

In a nutshell, the author said thin did not equal happy. And fat did not equal sad. She said life was too short to obsess over being thin or fat.

I agree with all of that.

Mostly.

All I really know is me.

When I was fat, I was miserable. I pretended I wasn't, but I was. I didn't like me. Hell, I didn't look myself in the eyes in the mirror for years. That me, the old me, has a really difficult time believing anyone who lives uncomfortably is "happy."

For me, being fat prevented happy. The two could not exist together.

Fat, however, didn't cause unhappy. Fat was the symptom, not the cause. I was unhappy because I knew I was failing myself. I knew that I could do better. I knew that I wasn't treating myself well.

I was embarrassed to be that version of me because it wasn't who I was supposed to be. The me on the outside didn't match the me on the inside. It didn't matter how nice I was, how successful I was, how smart I was. I was unhappy. And fat.

As I got thinner, I found me. The two images, inside and outside, got closer together.

And, for a while, I found what I thought was happy. Happy because clothes fit. Happy because I wasn't winded when I climbed the stairs. Happy because I finally recognized the image in the mirror.

Looking back on it now, though, I know it wasn't "happy" that I was feeling.

It was pride. And satisfaction. And self-respect. Happy was the byproduct.

As you know, I've put on 15 pounds. I have moments when I struggle with the failure of it. There are times I look at my arm flaps and my saggy thighs and want to scream. How can I have been working on this for so very long and still have not completed it? It makes me unhappy.

And then there are times, like tonight, when I eat three Girl Scout Lemonade cookies and two Milanos and know my pants will fit tomorrow, that I am satisfied.

I like life with cookies. And chocolate. And an occasional drink. And potato chips. And cheese.

God, I love cheese.

I discovered that I also like making my body work when I run or lift.

I love feeling strong ... in mind, in spirit, in muscle.

So I will continue to make my body work. I will continue to eat cookies. And I will continue to learn to accept and appreciate the face that looks back at me in the mirror.

I doubt that I will ever be truly thin. I have never and will never live on a 1000 calorie a day diet. I am highly unlikely to log every morsel I put in my mouth or obsessively workout to burn off a cherry tomato. I'm too lazy for that.

But I have just recently started to wonder if this me is "good enough." Or at least, good enough for right now.

Because in the end, I think that's the key. If you know who you are, and you fit in your skin, that is enough.

That's what happy is.