*BLEEP* That Groundhog... I'm Still Fat

Punxsutawney Phil the groundhog

Okay, look, I voted.

I just had to get that out the way, because the way I'm supposed to be minding my business and drinking my water I'm trying to figure out why I'm still fat! (Caution: I can say it... but not YOU!) And frankly? I'm blaming that damn groundhog.

Hear me out. We all know the drill. Groundhog sees his shadow, six more weeks of winter. Six more weeks of comfort food, right? Six more weeks of cozy nights in, which, let's be real, often involve a family-sized bag of chips, lemon pepper wings and whatever's on Netflix. And six more weeks of hiding my extra curves under layers of sweaters. He's like the official mascot of "stay inside and eat your feelings." And my feelings? They taste like warm peach cobbler with Homemade Vanilla ice cream. I'm just saying...

But this year? This year, I'm done. I'm done with Punxsutawney Phil and his BS. I'm done with the idea that some rodent gets to dictate my wardrobe and my waistline when he fat as hell too!! Of course he going to see his shadow... especially if he can see over his rotund belly!

Because let's be real, the reason spring isn't here officially is because my summer body is on backorder!! Lord help me it's April and I'm still shopping on SHEIN and FashionNova for items with the elastic! As many reels that I have watched on IG and Facebook, I should be skinny by way of manefestation!! I've save all the workout videos and the meals... and taken some of the test to see "how many steps I have to take to lose weight." All the free trials!! Have I been sabatoged by a big rat?!! Cause it all seems like something a thing named Punxsutawney would do: the subtle (and not-so-subtle) messages that tell me my body isn't good enough. It's the diet culture that preys on my pockets and my insecurities. It's the constant pressure to be thin, to be perfect, to be something I'm not. It's so much easier to just eat a cookie, until it's not.

And as a Black woman? That pressure is amplified. We're already fighting against the stereotypes, the BBLs, the microaggressions, the constant battle to be seen and heard. Adding body image issues on top of that? It's exhausting.

So, yeah, I'm blaming the groundhog. But I'm also blaming the mofo who is supposed to get me out of bed, fix me healthy meals, and workout: ME! I'm tired of hiding and tucking my stomach into my pants. (Cause nothings worse than when it slips off the belly and hides under the belly flap)

So for April, I'm reclaiming my body. I'm reclaiming my time. I'm reclaiming my damn sanity. And if that means telling Punxsutawney Phil to shove his shadow where the sun don't shine? Then so be it. I'll let you know when summer is on the way. I'm making my own spring. I'm blooming on my own terms. And I’m going to look damn good doing it.