Body positivity, fat acceptance, call it what you will, it seems like everyone who writes has written a post about it.
For good reason, by the way.
There’s a few ways I could come at this. I could tell you about the time my mom bought me a gym membership I didn’t ask for for Christmas. Because, you know, “I just thought you’d want one.” I could talk about
the eating disorder that defined most of my high school years (and at the very least my ribcage). I could bitch about the personal trainer ex of mine who offered to work out with me. Stop anyone on the street and ask them about something or someone that made them feel shitty about their body. Ask them what the most hurtful thing anyone has said or done regarding their size is. They’ll have a story for you. Probably several.
Working in a hospital, I see people fat-shamed daily, whether comments are made to the patients or behind their backs. This is the same place, though, where I have to listen to one of my coworkers get a whole bunch of shit about how she’s too skinny all the time. We’ve got such a narrow idea of what constitutes acceptable, let alone sexy.
I’ve been too skinny. I’ve brushed off comments about how I need to eat. I’ve watched my nails start to go dark. But I’ve also been too fat. I’ve been asked if I scratched myself, only to look and see a bright red stretch mark. I’ve wondered where the fuck other fat people buy clothes. I’ve been given that look from a doctor, even though I came in with a sore throat.
The thing about those extremes is that, for me, they were filled with an intense dissatisfaction. Disgust, even. Actually, the exact same disgust, only 100lbs apart. So what the fuck?
It wasn’t until I wound up square in the middle, where I am now, that I realized just how pervasive and fucked up everything really is. Extremes have words. Skinny, fat. There’s no word for what’s in the middle. And that’s fine, I don’t really want one, but my point is that the grey area makes it really fucking hard to identify with anyone.
I still can only buy clothes sometimes, in some stores. I still have to reach for the back of the rack. I’m still technically obese (fuck you BMI). All that shit hasn’t changed.
You know what changed?
I got kicked out of the fat club. Every comment from a coworker or friend to the tune of, “Yeah but you’re skinny now,” was just someone slowly ripping up my membership card, my all-access pass to the supportive oasis of accepting body-positivity I had relished in for so long.
Body acceptance shouldn’t be relative to your specific body. Just because someone’s smaller than you doesn’t make them skinny, and just because someone’s bigger than you doesn’t make them fat. Also, maybe we stop using skinny and fat as pejoratives, hm? Because they’re both used that way allthefuckingtime and not helping anyone.
I hear lots and lots of talk about how sexy confidence is, and sure, that’s great, but I’m going to officially take the stance that comfort is the sexiest thing of all. You don’t have to think you’re the hottest thing that’s ever crossed the Earth, but give me someone who is clearly genuinely comfortable in their own skin and watch me melt. Bodies are sexy. The people in those bodies are sexy. Sexy isn’t a size issue. Sexy is a state of mind, of being. Own your shit. Because I can guarantee you, at some point someone has masturbated thinking about every single one of you.
I was sexy at my low weight. I was sexy at my high weight. I’m fucking sexy now. I have been sexy at every single weight and size I’ve ever been, even if I didn’t realize it at the time. Even if I still struggle with feeling it. Do I still have bad days where I’m super down on myself and think I’m the furthest thing imaginable from sexy? Of course I do. But guess what, so does everyone. Having a sleepy day doesn’t make you a narcoleptic.
Fuck your fat acceptance. Fuck your body acceptance, for those who prefer the term. Fuck your acceptance, period. Someone who only accepts you hasn’t earned the right to see you naked. I’m not here to be accepted. I’m here to be fucking celebrated, and you should be too.
Check out my #SexyAtEverySize truth, and then share yours! Take a picture, hold up a sign, tweet, whatever makes your sexy heart sing!