Although I'll try to keep my identity as anonymous as possible, there are a few things about me you can learn. I'm a female, and I'm considered 'full-figured'. Honestly? I'm pretty average in the realm of American women. I'm a size 18. If you go shopping, you'll find that sizes 12-18 are often the most purchased sizes. Whether this is good or bad is not for me to judge, it's just true.
However, I am often considered 'fat'. Whatever, call me what you want. I want to consider myself beautiful. It takes make reminders from my dear male friend for me to realize that I am beautiful, or even sexy, at times. And I feel terrible that I make him work so hard to get me feeling well. Today, while contemplating this part of our relationship, I realized that I was trained to feel this way about myself.
The world today wants size zeros. Honestly, I don't see it. I don't even like my MEN skinny!! Even buff-ness is a turn off for this Middle Class Blogger. Who wants to cuddle with a rock? No, I like a bit of stuffing when I'm laying with a man. To each their own though. However, I can't help but laugh at the people who say I should lose weight to be 'healthy'. Here's a fact, I AM healthy. I recently had a full panel of bloodwork done. Not only is my blood pressure consistently perfect, I also have fine sugar levels, Cholesterol, and all those other things that scientifically define 'healthy'.
But the world didn't teach me to have bad self-esteem. Sure, I was teased by kids in school as a child and I get some harsh looks from peers. I can even handle when a worker at a clothing store turns me away solely because of my size. However, the one thing I couldn't handle was the remarks from my family. My dad always thought I was fat and unattractive, and I knew it. He would portion control my meals, giving the 'skinnier' sisters more pasta and seconds, and keeping Ms. Fatty over here to meat only, no pasta, no bread. This only pushed me to a semi-eating disorder in 6th grade. Anorexia, what every girl wants for her twelfth birthday.
My mom didn't help matters. She wouldn't straight up say I was fat, but she was GREAT at hinting it. "You're really going to eat ALL that?!" (I love food and hate wasting, what can I say). "You don't have asthma, you're just out of shape" (Erm... yeah, that was wrong). But probably one of the most scarring situations in my life was when I was taking physical education in high school.
I was finally gaining confidence in who I was as a real person. I knew I wouldn't ever be a size 0, my hip bones are just too big, and I was trying to be happy with myself. I wore a nice jumpsuit-esque outfit for the first day. And some of the boys gave me a wolf whistle. What can I say, I have an hour-glass figure, it can just hold a few more hours! However, when I ran home to tell my mom about it after school, she rolled her eyes. "I'm sure you're confused, that COULDN'T have been directed at YOU." Wow... really? Why couldn't she just express her excitement for me and let me feel beautiful?
I'm comfortable with myself now. I do get bouts of depressed "I'm so fat, no one will ever want me" moments. But for the most part, I'm happy. When my 5 year old niece calls me fat, to my face, and her parents don't correct her and say it's rude, I can laugh it off. When people tell me to try using a treadmill, I can roll my eyes. And when people mention that the sight of me running causes nausea (hey, at least I'm trying), I can turn up the music on my iPod. I just feel it's a shame that I had to teach MYSELF that I'm beautiful, and that I have to be reminded. Self-esteem, good or negative, isn't natural, it's learned.
No comments:
Post a Comment