Enough with the bikini body bullshit
Originally posted June 14, 2022
We girls had this thing called the Super-Suck-In-Belly-Club, and every single time we’d stand up from our beach loungers, we would simultaneously suck in our guts. We were TWELVE, and we’d already learned that we needed to do this to be acceptable.
I want to mention that most girls I grew up with were super skinny and flat-chested. Not me. I’d bloomed into a curvy girl with giant tits, and I did NOT like the attention this drew. While my friends looked like walking ironing boards, I had curves out the front, back and sides. Sure as shit, one day, I got a comment from a boy—someone I thought was a friend.
“Whoa, girl, you’re looking a little chubba chubba.” Cue laughter from the other boys. Cue side-eyes from the girls. No one defended me. I guess they were all thinking the same thing. Fuckers.
I saw red. Crimson, actually. I envisioned rivers of blood flowing from his face after gouging his eyes out with my thumbs.
He was not one of the chiseled, sexy boys in the group. He was short and tubby. His personality was usually very sweet and funny, and maybe he was having an off day. Nonetheless, something in me flipped. “Are you fucking kidding me? You’re going to sit there with your rolls of fat and fucking tell me that I’m chubby? Fuck. You. Friend.” He was embarrassed. The other boys whistled and snorted. He turned red. I was upset that I’d shamed him for his body, but he’d just done it to me.
I was hot and close to tears. I threw back my shoulders and walked down to the water, head held high because I knew they were all watching. I would pretend I wasn’t hurt. I would pretend it didn’t bother me. I would pretend I was stronger than his words. I would pretend I loved this body and was proud of it. Once in the water, I ignored my friends and swam away from them. I let my tears come out, privately, alone, and ashamed, deep in the water, gulping in the waves as I tried to cry quietly. I was so humiliated.
Later, one friend told me she’d do anything to have my body. I told her she could have it. Even at that young age, neither of us could win. She had no breasts, and I had too much. She had no curves, and all I wanted was a flat stomach. She envied me, and I envied her.
Let’s fast forward.
I was speaking with a new friend yesterday. We’re in that early discovery phase of wondering if we will like each other enough to hang out more regularly. Out of the blue, she opened up and told me she was feeling vulnerable about her body. She’s a fitness instructor and put on a bit of weight recently. Just a little; less than ten pounds.
Her voice cracked as she said, “I know people are looking at me and thinking, wait; you’re the teacher? You don’t look like one.” I nodded. I wanted to grip her in a bear hug and tell her she’s fucking beautiful, but as I said, the relationship is still new. I don’t want to scare her. Then she said, “The worst part? It’s other women judging me!”
Sadly, I wasn’t surprised. I asked if they’d said it outright, and she said some had made barbed comments, and others just undressed her with their eyes and found her wanting. It made her not want to teach. Read that again. It made her not want to teach.
She would rather hide from the shame and scorn of ten extra pounds than do what she loves. Than do her vocation, her passion, her gift. She is approaching middle-age and ladies, if you don’t know it yet, crazy shit happens to your body when your hormones start to flip. Instead of compassion, she’s getting ridicule. And I am sick of it.
We must do better. Corporations will keep selling us toxic, dangerous notions that we need their crap to be ‘enough’ to walk the planet. They will not stop. But we are not powerless. It’s up to us to stop shredding and judging others for what they have or do not have. For God’s sake, have some sisterhood.