Musings on Fat

I've been thinking a lot lately about my life as a fat girl. I've always been fat. I look at pictures of myself in kindergarten, and realize that there hasn't really been a time in my life where I haven't been at least "chubby".
Because of this, I feel that I've had a lot of time to at least get used to the idea. These days, I rarely scrutinize my body in the way that I did during my teenage years. I no longer look at the fat under my arm and feel disgust or guilt. I don't look at my belly and feel hopeless. I look at it now and feel...not much. My body is just my body at this point. It's how I get around the world. It's the vehicle for so many experiences, and I no longer hate or distrust it.
Despite feeling OK about my body, and worrying comparatively little about how others perceive me, I still hold on to some of the body issues I developed in those less-than-perfect teenage years. The thing I notice most these days is my anxiety over eating in public, especially alone. Though I know it probably isn't the case, I feel as if people around me are scrutinizing what I put in my mouth. Having a salad? "Thank goodness she's on a diet." Eating a burger and fries? "Christ, look at her! She really doesn't care about herself does she?"
This can turn lunch into a trial. I find myself trying to look busy, trying to pay more attention to my book or cell phone, rather than the food in front of me. Trying to look like I could care less if I eat or not. I realize more and more that this is silly, a self-imposed anxiety about food that really does me a disservice. I want to let go of these last vestiges of self-loathing that muddy things for me. A lunch alone can be such an unexpected treat in the middle of a long workday. Why ruin it?