Running Fat Chef

Sometimes I hear my husband say that nobody cares about Father’s Day as much as Mother’s Day.

And every time he says it, I completely disagree.

One of my favorite things about being married to Eric is getting to watch him be a dad.

I’ve spent nearly 19 years watching him learn what makes our son laugh, think, light up, and shut down. Watching the two of them mock each other’s mannerisms and then immediately act confused about where the other one got it from.

Sir. 🫥😒🤣

That is your child.

The resemblance isn’t just physical. It’s in the way they think, the way they move through the world, and the way they love the people they care about.

When we were younger, I knew I wanted to be a parent. What I didn’t know was how lucky I’d be in choosing that partner. The patience, thoughtfulness, and care this man pours into our family every day is something I’ll never take for granted.

Eric, our son and I are so fortunate to have you.

You are so much more than a Father’s Day card, a dad hat, or a cup of coffee.

You are loved.
You are appreciated.
And you are one hell of a father.

Happy Father’s Day, babe. ❤️

For a long time, I thought growth meant eventually choosing one thing and letting the rest go. Become the runner, or the powerlifter, or the writer, or the speaker, or the entrepreneur. Pick one identity, master it, and stay there.

Real talk, that’s never been me.

Even when I’ve tried to follow the rules, I’ve usually learned them well enough to question them. Not because I’m interested in being difficult or because I enjoy being contrary, but because I’ve always been curious about who benefits from those rules in the first place.

Why are we so uncomfortable with people being more than one thing?

Why do we rush to put people into categories, labels, and boxes?

I’ve spent most of my life being told, directly and indirectly, that I take up too much space. My body reminds me of that conversation every day, and the world certainly doesn’t let me forget it. So why would I force my dreams, my interests, my talents, or my ambitions to become smaller too?

I’ve never been interested in becoming easier to explain. I’ve been interested in becoming more fully myself.

Even when I tried to play small, my work always reminded me that I’m a bigger deal than I was giving myself credit for. And it’s not because I’m better than anyone else. It’s because every meaningful thing I’ve accomplished happened after I gave myself permission to try, evolve, take up space, and become more than one thing.

I’m not meant to be one thing, nor will I comply with being one thing.

If anything, I want to be a Renaissance woman.

What’s something you’ve been told to tone down, outgrow, leave behind, or make smaller that still feels like an important part of who you are?