I am re-blogging something I wrote a couple of months ago, but adding a photograph. In the photo, I am holding my best friend’s baby, who is now a gorgeous young woman. I may have been ten pounds heavier when that frat boy made the crack about me being the “fattest chick at that party.”
Even at the weight in that photo, with my twig arms, I had some body image issues. How sad is that?
I read a great blog today from a woman who referred to herself as a Bear. She did so lovingly, in an article about how women themselves follow society and treat their bodies like a 4H entry at the fair.
I would not have brought home ribbons, but who wants to be livestock?
There is another sweet story to add – something that remains with me just as much as the fattest chick tale. I have kept this one to myself, but a very different young man, who was interested in me at the time, told me I had a beautiful way of thinking. It was one of those passing moments, just as the insult had been, but unlike the frat boy, I can still picture his face.
Beautiful people find beauty in others.
Yesterday, I stumbled upon a Buzzfeed about women responding to mean things people had said about their bodies. Generally, most people have been told something pretty harsh by someone by the time they reach the age of 10. Part of growing up is learning to deal with hazing by your peers, or even at times by those in authority. I have mixed feelings about this… while being hurtful is not cool, do we really need the sort of emotional anti-bacterial wiping of society that prevents people from developing thicker skin and the ability to cope with words?
Sticks and stones may break my bones, but names will never hurt me.
Not true. We all know it’s not true… Otherwise, those 18 women wouldn’t be holding up signs. Names hurt, but we move on, and we grow thicker skin, and hopefully as we grow older, we learn to love ourselves enough…
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