I don't know if 248 pounds was my heaviest weight or if it just happened to be where I was when I realized I couldn't keep getting heavier. I stepped on the scale and when I saw that I was well over what I weighed when I was pregnant with my second child, I was heartbroken. I would normally have expected myself to cry. That didn't happen. I just stared at the flashing numbers on the scale and something clicked. I didn't want to keep getting heavier. I didn't want daily tasks to get harder and harder until I couldn't do them anymore. I struggled with the feelings I was having. I am a feminist. I am body positive. I am all about taking up room and reclaiming space. I felt that I should have been happy regardless of my weight. Was I betraying myself and my beliefs and giving into the male gaze? Sitting down on my bed, I blinked a few times trying to clear the number I just saw from my brain and looked at my chihuahua. He loved me regardless of my weight. He d