There are moments in life that stop you in your tracks, not because of their grandeur, but because of how deeply they cut. One of those moments happened to me in a season when I was already running on emotional fumes. I had just had my babies. I had lost some weight… then gained some back. I was going through it, emotionally, mentally, spiritually, especially in my relationship with my children's father. It was a time where everything felt heavy, and I constantly felt like I wasn’t enough, no matter how much I tried.
Then, right in the middle of that storm, during a raw, vulnerable conversation about body image and self-worth, a so-called “friend” looked me dead in the eyes and said:
“I love that you’re fat again, because I need a funny fat friend.”
In that moment, everything inside me paused. It wasn’t a joke. It wasn’t harmless. It was a clear reflection of how little she saw me, not as a whole person, but as a role to fill for her comfort and insecurity. My body, my journey, my healing, all of it was reduced to a punchline she could lean on.
What she said reinforced the lie I had already been feeding myself, that I’d never be enough physically, so I might as well just lead with my personality. Be the funny one. Be the outgoing one. Be the one who makes everyone feel good… even if I didn’t feel good about myself. What she really meant was: Stay where I need you. Don’t grow. Don’t glow. Don’t rise. Just stay soft, stay quiet, stay easy to compare myself to. But I see it now. That comment wasn’t about me. It was about her. Her need to anchor herself in someone else’s body, someone else’s laughter, someone else’s light, without ever having to face her own shadow.
Well, I’m done being anyone’s backdrop. I am not the “funny fat friend.”
I am the main character in my own life, complex, evolving, worthy at every size. And I refuse to shrink just so someone else can feel tall.
That sentence echoed in my mind for years. I can still feel how small it made me feel. And for a while, I let it define me. But here’s what I’ve learned since: you are allowed to take back your identity, piece by piece, even if someone once tried to reduce you to a punchline.
Here’s how I’ve been learning to rebuild my self-esteem and shift into a healthier mindset and how you can too:
1. Understand That Their Words Were a Reflection of Them, Not You
People often say things as jokes that are really just mirrors of their own pain. That comment wasn’t just about me — it was about her. Her own insecurities, her own issues with identity, weight, self-worth. It doesn’t excuse it, but it explains it. And I’ve learned that I don’t have to carry the weight of someone else’s pain anymore.
2. Separate Your Body From Your Worth
For years I tied my worth to how I looked — what size I wore, how “put together” I appeared. If I looked good, I felt a little more worthy. If I gained weight, I felt like I needed to overcompensate. But I’ve slowly been unlearning that. I’m still overweight. I’m still on this journey. But I’m no longer letting my body be the condition for my happiness or self-love. My value doesn’t go up or down with a number on the scale.
3. Affirm the Things That Are Already Beautiful About You
My personality? It’s gold. It’s what people are drawn to. Not because I had to develop it to distract from my weight — but because it’s part of who I am. I lead with heart, with joy, with authenticity. I’ve started reminding myself that those are beautiful traits. My spirit is vibrant. My mind is resilient. And my body? It’s still a beautiful, sacred vessel — no matter what shape it’s in.
4. Practice Coaching Yourself With Compassion
As a life coach, I pour into others. But coaching myself — that’s been the work. I’ve started speaking to myself the way I would to my clients: with grace, with truth, with a reminder that healing is not about perfection. It’s about progress. It’s about choosing to show up for yourself — even when your inner critic is loud.
5. Let Go of People Who Don’t Celebrate the Fullness of Who You Are
That friend is no longer in my life and that’s a boundary I needed. If someone can’t see your beauty, your brilliance, and your becoming, then they don’t deserve a front-row seat to your life. I now choose to surround myself with people who love me in all of my seasons and who speak life into my journey, not shame.
If you’ve ever felt like your body made you less worthy, or if someone made a joke that cut you deeper than you expected, know this:
You are not the sum of your weight, your appearance, or someone else’s opinion. You are light. You are love. You are whole, even as you heal.
So take this as your permission slip to reclaim your power! To live in your body with peace. To lead with personality and presence. And to never let anyone, not even a version of yourself, convince you that you are anything less than extraordinary.
With so much love & gratitude,
Coach Jo
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