To see myself through someone else's eyes

I'm gonna get all introspective and talkity here, so come back tomorrow if you're just in it for the goofy cat pictures and animal videos. ;)


At the end of the work day today, I was pondering what clothes to pack for this weekend's trip to Chicago. I started thinking about how few cute little T-shirts I have to wear these days, since I've put on 30 pounds and 3 cup sizes since I bought most of the ones I own back in college. By the time I got home, I was feeling pretty low. Even though I know it's absurd, I seem to be having a lot of "fat days" lately. I don't know if I can blame "society" or "the patriarchy" or if feeling fat is just a biological fact for women.

My mom never obsessed over her weight or dieted while I was growing up. I was never pressured to look any different than I did. I spent most of puberty in Tae Kwon Do, slowly learning to love and respect my body for what it could do rather than for how it looked. It probably didn't hurt that I was naturally thin-ish as a teenager (other than my boobs and thighs), though I never had washboard abs even at my fittest. I was thrilled to get hips and a bit of a ghetto booty at 19. I quit TKD during my sophomore year at college, when school started to require more of my time. Since then, it's been a slow and steady crawl to where I am now, comfortable and content and confident in all ways but one--how I look.

It's absolutely fucking absurd, too. I don't wear makeup. I wear my hair up every day, never fancy. I don't own a brush. I don't own a hairdryer. I wouldn't know what to do with a straightening iron or a compact. I'm not a slob, but I also don't put much stock in valuing appearance over substance. It's just not me. I hate that girls and young women are pressured to look a certain way, or to be a certain weight. When I teach girls at work, I encourage them to love themselves for who they are, and not what "society" may be telling them they should look like / be like / act like. When I'm there, I own my body, I love my figure, and I am proud to look this way.

But in quiet moments by myself, or when I'm brushing my teeth in front of the mirror in my underwear, or when I realize I could pass for a few months' pregnant if I wore the wrong thing, or when I find out that yet another article of clothing no longer fits, well...I'm not so proud or strong or up with me then. I hear women all the time crusading to get back into an 8 or a 6. I don't even know what that means. I still buy pants in the juniors' section, in sizes ranging from 13 to 17, depending on the brand. Sizes in women's clothing pretty much mean nothing when there's this much variation from brand to brand, and yet I still fret over it. I know it's all bullshit, but I still can't shake the feeling that I'm getting a little too big for my britches (literally).

Tonight, I decided to test out a shirt I was pretty sure I couldn't pull off. I figured if I could wear it out on errands, then I'd know it was safe to pack a few little T-shirts for my trip. Once I put it on, I suddenly felt better. The smaller shirt made me look smaller than I felt, not bigger. Curvy instead of lumpy. Hmmm...maybe a hell yeah was in order?

On my way to the library I got double-taked once and whistled at once. Disgusting? Probably, but I didn't feel frumpy and invisible. I started to wonder if maybe I am closer to the curvy, slightly chubby sexpot girls I admire than I thought. I really dig chicks that rock a natural, healthy figure and make it look awesome. I want to be those girls. Maybe my head is the only thing that's holding me back. I started to think that I really just need to consciously start refusing to buy into my own bullshit. I know I'm not model material or super hot stuff, but it's time to stop feeling down about shit that really doesn't matter, right?

By the time I left the library, I was feeling a lot better. Then, at the door, I ran into one of the girls from my volunteer program at work. And dudes, I almost can't write this out because it feels absolutely ridiculous to admit it to anyone (including myself), but this kid looks up to me. I barely feel like I'm old enough to be trusted with a houseplant, and I'm a freakin' role model to these brainy, ballsy 13- and 14-year-old girls, whether I like it or not, girls who are right at the age when it's the hardest to not look like a magazine model. So I chatted with this kid and her mom, and the kid was just grinning like she was so happy to see me, the way I used to grin when I ran into older people I knew who were nice enough to acknowledge me. I was a HUGE dork growing up. HUGELY unpopular. To even know teenagers who are happy to see me in public has been a bit of an adjustment, let me tell you.

So I thought about all of this for the rest of the night, and I don't really know where it's led me, but I think it's important for me to realize that when other people look at me, they don't necessarily see the barely-concealed muffin top or the carefully veiled backfat (Oh God the backfat. How I hate it.) They don't look at my stomach and think, my God, she's letting herself go. They may look at me and think, "My God, she never shuts up, EVER" (or even "My God, her tits are huge" because they sort of are, embarrassingly enough), but they're probably not thinking that I need to call Jenny Craig. If I lose ten pounds tomorrow and carry myself like I'm ashamed of myself, I'm going to look worse than if I gain ten pounds tomorrow and carry myself like I'm proud to be me.

I know, I know...none of this is fucking rocket science, right?

But I think it's high time I reminded myself of all of this. What do I see when I look at myself? What would I see if I could look at myself through someone else's eyes?


And, to close:  before anybody gets all up in arms because I'm "too skinny" to feel this way or whatever, save it. I have almost written entries just like this many times, only to delete them out of concern that people would get their panties in a twist over a so-called skinny bitch talking about having fat days. But you know what? It's my damn blog. If you don't like what I'm saying, don't read it. Girls with small boobs often want bigger boobs, and girls with big bazoombas often long for perky B-cups (trust me on this). Girls without curves wish for them, while hourglass girls feel like wide loads. There is something about women that makes us find fault with our bodies, and it makes me furious and curious all at once. It's not a fat chick problem or a skinny bitch problem--it's apparently a female problem.

If anybody's still reading, thanks for letting me blather on. I'm not really sure what I was intending with this post, but it feels really good to have it all out here instead of rolling around in my brain. Maybe one day we will all know how to love ourselves, as we are, and not as we think we should be.