My friend Danielle has a pretty cool blog. You should check it here.
It kind of motivated me to talk about some of this. I promise to be honest.
So, I don’t know a single woman that likes her body completely. I think that we ladies are biologically incapable of loving ourselves truly all the time, whether we’re big or small or done up or dressed down. I have no idea why that is. I would like to say this goes way back, back into the ooze we crawled from or the particles we originated from.
Truthfully, I wish that were different. I wish there was a way to reconcile “being pretty” and “not being thin” in our brains. Because part of being a woman is that we are supposed to be appealing, visually, however you want to define that. But I’ve met pretty girls that were not thin, I’ve met thin girls that were not pretty, and I’ve met pretty girls who were also thin who thought they were neither of those things. It’s no wonder we’re all crazy.
But, back to the fat.
A month or two ago I was hanging out with a guy I was dating and we were talking about food. And we both agreed on something. Details fuzzy. But he says, “Yay for being fat!” And he gives me a high five.
And so help me God, I could have smacked him. He meant it in jest, it was completely good-natured, and I smiled politely and returned the high five. He was a bigger guy. He was putting us both in the “fat” category. He wasn’t trying to single me out or make me self-conscious.
But the word “fat” is a tricky one. It has a lot of power if you don’t know how to handle it. And I don’t, really. I have never had control over that word. I have actively avoided using that word, or giving it context, or seeing it as it applies to me my entire life. I’ve always used other euphemisms to describe myself: full-figured, curvy, voluptuous. These words have positive connotations. You can’t use these words negatively. “Look at that bitch, she’s too voluptuous.”
Nope, never gonna happen.
I don’t remember ever being conventionally thin. Maybe when I was a kid, less than 8 years old. But I’ve always looked like this in varying degrees. Every part of my posture, the way I walk, the way I stand, the way I sit, the way I move, has come up around me being built this way. And here’s a confession: I don’t hate it. I can buy clothes in regular and plus-size stores, I can dress up well, I can be sexy, I can be put together. But I have not always felt this way.
No man I’ve ever been with has had any complaints about the way I look. I’ve been told that I’m beautiful. I’m finally at a point where I believe those compliments.
But if someone calls me fat, it shuts me down. And that’s a tragedy. Because I’m too pretty to feel like that. And there are other fat girls that are too pretty for that. We’re all far too pretty to let that word make us feel bad. Intellectually, I think we all know it.
So, I’m going to make a greater effort to embrace my fatness. I’ve embraced what I look like. And now it’s time to embrace my descriptors. Because it’s only a bad word if you let it be one. And I promise to work on that.
Here’s a picture of a fat kitty. Because this a comedy blog, goddammit.
More funny stuff later this week. Promise.