Answering the Call: From Fat-Shamed to Fully Seen

I wrote. I cried. I wrote some more, and then I sobbed hysterically. But sometimes, that’s the process of peeling back layers of trauma, isn’t it? To see me and know me is to love me—or so I’m learning to believe about myself.

The journey to this moment? Let’s just say it’s been a hell of a ride.

This post is about fatness, visibility, and finding the courage to be fully seen. It’s a story, a reckoning, and maybe a call to action—for me and for anyone else who’s been told they’re too much, not enough, or simply unworthy.

The Painful Origins of Fat Shame

It starts early, doesn’t it? I’ve carried loud and clear messaging my whole life: I am less deserving of everything—love, space, opportunities—because I live in a fat body.

Here’s the kicker: When this all started, I wasn’t even fat.

I look at my youngest child now, their body an almost exact replica of mine at their age. They aren’t fat. They’re just a child.

The thought of telling them they’re fat—or worse, hearing someone else make those comments—makes my stomach churn. The world will do enough damage on its own without me becoming another bully in their life. And yet, this was my lived experience.

I was seven when the world started to decide how I should exist in it. Seven years old when friends and peers started parroting back what their parents thought about my body. Let that sink in. Seven years old and already hearing that I wasn’t good enough.

The Weight of Other People’s Words

One memory floated to the surface recently. Just one, small moment. A parent’s offhanded comment, repeated by their child. That memory cracked open a dam, flooding me with dozens more just like it.

The “compliments” were backhanded. The criticisms stung. And worse, I became a cautionary tale—their example of what not to be.

At home, I learned that my body wasn’t acceptable. Outside, the world confirmed it. By the time I hit puberty, the message was clear: I didn’t deserve love, space, or positive attention.

Visibility: The Double-Edged Sword

As I got older, I hid myself more and more. My size, my body, and the shame wrapped around it shaped every decision I made. I ignored what I was good at and what I loved because being seen felt too dangerous.

Even now, as a thought leader—someone whose work demands visibility—I wrestle with it. My work thrives on connection and authenticity, yet the thought of being fully seen scares the living daylights out of me.

What if people reject me because of my body? What if they can’t see past it?

A Moment of Reckoning

But here’s the thing: The universe is calling.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve dreamed of sharing everything I’ve learned about being a good and happy human. I want to be seen and heard. I want to take the stage and shock the world.

But I’m scared. Obscurity feels safer. And yet, staying hidden isn’t really safe either—it’s just smallness masquerading as security.

The Decision

So here I am, standing on the edge of fear and fulfillment.

Do I give up everything I’ve ever wanted because it’s big and scary? Or do I take the stage, own my greatness, and show the world what I’m made of?

This is me answering the call.

I am Deana, and I am here to own my greatness.