Let’s talk about weight. Because that’s the in thing to do now, right?
I’m rather skinny.
Oooh, I know. I’m not supposed to say that, am I? I’m supposed to complain about my pudgy belly or flabby arms or SOMETHING, ANYTHING, even if people routinely comment on OHMYGOSH YOUR WRISTS ARE TINY!
But why? It’s a fact: I. Am. Skinny. When I went to the doctor last week and stepped on the scale I was a little surprised at how low the number was, and I’m used to being skinny.
But here’s the odd thing about it:
When I was younger, like up until the ninth grade or so, my weight was somehow TEH PLAGUE. There’s pictures of me and my friends in mid school and I look like bones and skin. So skinny it shocks me; no wonder people commented on it. Junior high came and I was still that way…
and my school did an assembly thing about eating disorders. Because I guess seventh grade is THAT AGE for girls? Anyway, after that girls would come up to me. Completely well-meaning girls of course, and they would mention that maybe I should Eat. That maybe Being Anorexic Is Bad. That I was Already Very Skinny.
Of course I knew all that. I wasn’t anorexic. I was just skinny. And their comments didn’t hurt me exactly, they just made me aware. Aware that apparently maybe probably people might think I am anorexic if I don’t Watch It.
And then something happened. Either suddenly or slowly I can’t say, but one day it seems instead of being Too Skinny, every girl around me was worrying about gaining weight. Skinny girls! Counting carbs and staying away from pizza!
Then it felt weird to me, that I didn’t care. I remember distinctly one night, going over to a sort-of-friend’s house to watch a movie with a huge group of people she’d invited. We had salad and pizza and all the guys ate pizza and all the girls ate salad, each of them saying something about how they were trying to not get fat or about eating healthy or about something-or-the-other.
So I felt a little odd being the only girl eating pizza. I thought to myself, Maybe I should have salad instead. Pizza is not the healthiest thing in the world.
But guess what? I’m not the hugest FAN OF SALADS. And I was HUNGRY. So I had the pizza.
And now things are topsy-turvy from how they are in junior high and instead of being aware of myself when I don’t eat, I’m aware when I do. Not because I’m afraid of becoming fat, not because I’m trying to Watch My Weight, but just because everyone else seems to be. Even my sister has lately begun making comments about her “fat” tummy. And I can’t tell if she’s serious or not, but either way it gives me the willies. Is this how girls are supposed to be? So obsessed with their weight, whatever it may be, always thinking they could stand to eat a few pounds or that they should take the salad instead of the pizza even though they really are hungry?
Am I some sort of freak of nature that I JUST DON’T CARE? That I eat when I’m hungry (and if I feel like eating ice cream I do) and I don’t eat when I’m not? Is it truly crazy that I choose the pizza over salad or that, occasionally, I’m not quite sure what my weight is because I don’t keep up with it? Am I a freak of nature that I have no body issues whatsoever related to my weight?
What’s upside-down: is it me or society?
Oh, also, if anyone is going to comment on it: I’m NOT talking about the obviously overweight who have reasons to be concerned about their weight. I’m talking about everyone else.
Also, I’m officially starved.