Karolena Greenidge, 28, Brooklyn, NY

When I was in junior high school, I went to Guatemala to see my great grandmother Lucila, a tiny blind lady with gray hair and a beautifully wrinkled brown face — and she told me I had legs like a ham. She immediately began to touch my face, and then my entire body, because she wanted to figure out what I looked like. "Tienes piernas como un jamón," she said with a smile on her face. It made her happy. It made her laugh, and I loved it. She had the best laugh, a toothless laugh, which made me laugh. Which makes sense now that I am a comedian and making people laugh is my favorite thing to do in the world.

I love my body, because it is the only one that I have. Would I like to be skinny? Sometimes. But I have never been skinny in my entire life. I have done all the diets and worked out and lost weight, but I have never been skinny. I am Hispanic and Caribbean, and the first time I ever wore a bikini was in Jamaica, where there were so many different body types but everyone was wearing bikinis. In both cultures, being fat is openly talked about, and it's not always a bad thing. My culture, combined with my attitude about life, has made me love my body. I believe life is for living, it's for having the most fun as possible, following your dreams, and this body allows me to do that. I dance in this body, I played rugby in this body. I perform comedy in this body. I have sex in this body. I go out and I take up space in this body — I have to love it. And maybe it's the idea of defiance, of rebellion, of knowing that a lot of people hate this body or want me to hate this body, yet I wake up and do my best to love myself anyway.

When I really feel nervous about shows, or whenever I feel insecure, I remind myself of this. I did a show last month, and I was so nervous for it that my hands were shaking and I was sucking down vodka sodas. I was worried that I was going to look fat on stage, since I do all of these weird faces in my set which, in my opinion, make my face look extra round. Once I go down holes like that, I feel even more nervous. I have to take a breath and think that there are 24 hours in the day, and in that moment, I just need 10 or 12 minutes to tell my story, to do the thing I love to do — make people laugh — and I deserve those few minutes to enjoy my life. Then, the rest of the 23 hours and 48 minutes in the day, I can worry about how round my face is if I want to. That really helps me get through shows and auditions.

My body made my great grandma laugh; it was funny to her that I had a full, well-fed, strong body. She was teasing me, but not for one minute did I feel bad about myself — which is the point. I will always remember her cracking that joke and her laugh. Laughter has always done that to me. It has always made me feel good. It's what I hope to use to make others feel good.