Working Out

I worked out this morning. I’ve finally gotten to where I really want to do it, not just because someone told me to. But I was thinking. Why should I be skinny? I wouldn’t mind being fit, but I see no benefits to being skinny. I have a nice smile, so people are kind to me even though I’m fat. I wouldn’t be able to eat as much (and I love food). I still won’t be able to find clothes my size because my problem is height, not width. I don’t want a boyfriend. I’m not interested in getting on a sports team. The odds of a zombie apocalypse or of the Doctor showing up are very low. And even if the Doctor did show up, he’d probably just be like, “Not her, she’ll slow us down,” because I’m not compassionate like Rose or smart like Martha or snarky like Donna. So why should I be skinny? I don’t like that I can’t play ultimate frisbee or learn hip hop dance with my friends, but that’s more because I fell out of a bunk bed and hurt my knee than it is because I’m fat. I don’t mind being the one who doesn’t change. I like who I am.


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