I'm Hungry: This is Me
The first time I met Sarah, I was wrapping up my fan girl moment when she said something so simply profound I can’t overlook sharing it with you. We chatted, said we’d connect, we gave a hug (man, do I love a hugger!), and then she said: “Do you happen to know where they’re serving the snacks? I’m hungry.”
No excuse. No disclaimer. No waiting for someone else to say it first. No long detailed explanation about why she was hungry, what type of healthy snack she’d be looking for or what made it OK for her to, in fact, be hungry. And – most incredible to me – no apparent internal struggle. It looked just that easy.
It seems like a really silly thing to remember, I’m sure, but immediately upon hearing those words I realized I had absolutely no idea how long it had been since I said those two words together … out loud … to anyone.
The first time I knew my body was different was sixth grade. A group of older girls called me a cow, and I was completely shocked. Until that time I had no idea what size was, that there were numbers that “mattered” or, quite frankly, that anyone even knew I existed most of the time.
And while I wanted so badly to show up in this space and tell you how broken it made me so we could give a collective “hell yes junior high is the worst,” the truth is my memory of that experience is only exactly what it was – skin deep.
What stuck with me wasn’t how I felt that day or what I remember feeling in similar experiences after, but rather one simple takeaway that haunts me still daily.
It’s a lie. It’s a total lie I tell myself over and over multiple times a day. It’s the answer to every question – every thought, really – that runs through my mind.
Do you really need a venti? Be small.
Should you have spoken up in that meeting? Be small.
She got a book deal. Be small.
Why are your pants tighter? Be small.
That post went viral. Be small.
Can I share this on Instagram? Be small.
Leaders show up early. Be small.
How did I get here? Be small.
Why doesn’t he love me anymore? Be small.
I use it to judge myself. I use it to motivate myself, to shame myself, to teach myself. I use it as an excuse for myself.
It’s what I’m thinking right now as I’m sharing this with you. Tell them things. Be open to sharing the truth with them … wait don’t say that part, be small.
Whether I was a size 8 or a size 18 – and let me reassure you, I’ve been both in the last 15 years – I have given so much weight to this one tiny message from a handful of teenage girls who were back to ignoring me a week later. I shrink everything from my dreams to my bio, from my expectations of others to the way I show up for the people I love most.
Because somewhere in the exhausting convoluted argument between what I know to be true so deep inside me it hurts and what my mind insists on repeating over and over again, I decided that small also meant less: Be less. Settle for less. Accept less. Reach for less. Ask for less.
Hungry, though – hungry means more. Hungry means we know how we feel and we’re going to take an action to make it change.
Hungry leads to full.
This space – this Be Full blog – is about so much more than the roller coaster that is Diet Land and Donut Land. This community has been fostered with a love, intention and openness rare in all forms. I’ve seen it in your comments on these posts, I’ve witnessed it in your replies on social media. I’m honored for the opportunity to exist in this space with you.
We are all here because we share one thing in common:
we are no longer willing to be small.
Physically, mentally, emotionally – wherever you are holding back for whatever reason – this is your permission and complete encouragement to be full.
My name is Kate Johnson. I’m a mom, I’m a farm wife, I’m a writer. I believe our greatest truths hide within our greatest fears. I believe living fully has little to do with the physical space we take in this world and everything to do with how we choose to show up there.
And I am hungry.
So now it’s your turn. Tell me, friend – what are you hungry for?
I’ll be hanging out there and I’m dying to hear.
is a writer, mama, farm wife and firm believer in chasing dreams from wherever you are.
Kate left her corporate career in the financial industry to pursue a masters degree in fashion journalism and a career in public relations. After freelancing in fashion PR and working with an east coast agency, she brought her focus back to the communities around her.
Currently navigating a corporate career, writing projects, motherhood and wifing, Kate is learning to grow in the corn fields where she is planted. You can follow her at @bykatejohnson.