I’ve been a chubby girl for some time now. I’ve absolutely got some junk in my trunk, some jiggle in my wiggle. For the most part I thought I was okay with my size. Sure, I’d love to be as tiny and fit as I was in my 20s but I am not defined by my size and still lead a fulfilling life as a plus-size lady.
However, being a bigger girl does come with constant reminders of your size, and I’m not talking about the bombardment of advertisements and media portraying the perfect woman as a size zero.
Clothing is always a challenge for those of us with some extra weight. Most plus size clothing is either old fashioned, tents in which ladies are meant to hide their unsightly chub or designed for a skinny girl with no curves. (Note to designers: bigger women generally have bigger chests, hips and bottoms, so please make clothing that can accommodate this).
Then there are little things like seating in movie theatres. I fluctuate between a size 18 and 20 but I still find some movie theatres seats to be a tight squeeze. Really nothing makes a woman feel more uncomfortable in her own skin than feeling like she’s too big to sit in a normal-sized chair.
In spite of these reminders of my socially deemed less-than-ideal weight, I still managed to find clothing (after much searching and frustration) that makes me feel good about how I look. I take pride in my appearance and, more importantly, I think I’m a good person with many admirable qualities. However, the other day I realized I was subconsciously fat-shaming myself.
I’ve experienced small slights in the past from others that I’ve attributed to my weight. A bartender choosing to serve the thin girl before me, a store clerk greeting the women in the “regular size” section and ignoring me as I perused the plus size section (usually hidden in the back of stores as to not discourage skinny ladies from coming in).
If someone were to call me fat (an ugly and uninspired insult) I would (and have) put them in their place. I don’t take these types of comments to heart – I know I’m overweight, good job with the observing. But the other day I noticed I was the one putting myself down. I was the one holding back who I am because of something as stupid as being a little hefty.
I was helping a friend get her phone replaced and the gentleman assisting us had an amazing sleeve tattoo of cameras and photographs. I love both tattoos and photography and I wanted to ask him about it. I stopped myself from asking, and I caught myself thinking, “Why would he care what the fat girl has to say?”
Once I realized what I was doing to myself, I chirped up and asked about his ink. But the incident has stuck with me for some time now. Why is it okay for me to put limits on myself because I’ve got jiggly bits but if someone else tried to do that to me it’s unacceptable?
Since then, I’ve decided to be nicer to both myself and to those I care about. I make it a point to say or do something nice and out of the blue for someone I love each day.
I say something nice to me about me, be it my appearance or a good job I did on something or for just surviving a stressful day. It’s little but it helps.
We’ve all got things we don’t like about ourselves but if you let that hold you back no one loses but you.
