Thursday, August 2, 2012

what is it about size?

I was thinking about something on the way home today... as I pondered the {awful} thing which happened last weekend...

So here's how it went... 

Girl has been working out... not too consistently, but enough to feel like she's doing better than the past. The last time the girl bought jeans, they were a size 18... well, that size 18 split in the booty after wearing them (near daily) for a very long time... (They were comfy...what can she say?) Anyways... so, she expected to go into the store.. Tarjay to be exact.. .cause she's obsessed with that store.. I mean, c'mon, who isn't... 

but I digress..

So, this girl looks through all the racks and racks of clothes... most of which are way too small yet... but she figures she's still gotta be a size 18, so she pulls a pair off the shelves. She buys them and takes them home, and the next day, before the event she was going to attend, she goes to put them on. And wouldn't' you know... they must be sized wrong! The last pair of the same brand and style were 18s and they were much larger. These suckers wouldn't even get up to the top of her thighs! 

And so, chocking it up to bad luck, she traipses back to the store and returns them. This time around, spending much more time than last time, she preys on them.. a huntress in her hunting ground. seeking the "perfect fit"... and she finds a cute style, and so she pounces! Just in case, she figures she should get both an 18 and a 20.. (in case these are poor fitting also)... and she goes to the dungeon ~ (aka "dressing room").

Then she tried the 18s.. wouldn't budge. She tried the 20s.. she'd have to suffocate to even get them up over her rolls. And so she succumbed to going back out to the floor and getting a... 

duh duh duh...

22!

It was awful. It was saddening. The girl was depressed. She could barely believe it. And since that dreaded day, she has thought of how yucky it felt to have to buy the biggest pair of jeans she'd had to buy in a LONG time. 

So... yeah. Bummer. But it's a work in progress, you know?

Anyways, so I started wondering today... what is it about women and size that is so much a part of our identity, so much a part of "who we are"? I mean, we say things like, 

I am funny. I am smart. I am pretty. I am fat. I am ugly. I am 33 years old. I am a mom. I am a wife. I am a hard worker. I am tired. I am a woman. I am an adult. And we also say: 

I am a size 22. 

Why is this such an identifier for who we are as people? Shouldn't those I ams be used for more telling identifiers such as our personality, our intelligence, our life roles.. but our jeans size? Who made that a piece of who someone is? I dunno.. maybe I'm on a tangent, but it kinda ticked me off when I started thinking about it. I mean, this isn't just coming from a fat girl's perspective. I know plenty of skinny girls.. you know... the ones who us thick girls assume LOVE their little tiny bodies? Well, NEWSFLASH: This is what a lot of their "I am's" sound like:

I am short. I am bony. I am small. I am flat-chested. I am boy-shaped...

True story, ladies. All women... big, small, flat chested, big boobied,  young, old, hairy, plain, high maintenance, moms, girlfriends, daughters, friends... 

WE ALL FEEL THIS WAY ABOUT SOME PART OF OUR BODIES.

And it's not enough that I, or anyone says, You look beautiful honey, just know that... No. we all have some sort of insecurity, and until we battle our own demons these remarks we tell ourselves.. they will haunt us forever. These I AM statements will be forever who we are. 

So, here's the challenge: Comment below. You can be anonymous. You can say who you are. I don't care. Just do yourself a favor. Do us ALL a favor. Celebrate YOU. Finish this statement: 

"I AM ______"

Let's be more than just our sizes, girls. K?

xoxo ~ j.


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