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Okay, real women have curves—it’s true. Most people aren’t going to argue with that.
We nearly all have breasts—whether small or extra-large—and we all have hips, rear ends, etc, etc, but you know what? I barely weigh a buck-fifteen—and that’s okay.
Because real women are sometimes thin too.
And real women have skin folds and stretch marks and yada yada yada.
I am so sick of women arguing over whether “real” women are heavy or tiny.
Here’s the deal: I was watching Disney’s Beauty and the Beast with my daughter earlier and let me just say that I’ll admit to being annoyed.
Not slightly annoyed or mildly agitated but Belle was full-on giving me a headache—and I’m alright with princesses. I’m down with glass slippers and temporary comas. Still, there’s only so much that a lady can take.
Example: Belle is “different” and “a most peculiar mademoiselle”—because she reads.
The future princess is a bookworm and that makes her a unique female. Um, okay. Moving on.
Belle is also traditionally beautiful (read: traditionally slender).
In short, I watch movies and read books with my toddler and obviously I notice that there’s a stereotypical look for women to have. For Godsakes, I remember reading Seventeen magazine and thinking that the girls were gorgeous—and I proceeded to be anorexic for years to follow.
So, yeah, I’m a skinny yogi and I’m not anorexic—now. But I used to be, and let me tell you that judging women by appearances is never okay, be it small or large.
Because not all women are overweight. I’m sorry but we’re not. Simple fact.
And not all ladies that practice yoga are either two ends of an opposing spectrum—anorexic and teensy or overweight and “normal.” And since when was the opposite of starving yourself being obese?
You know, I’m expecting a lot of horrid responses from this—I’m trying to mentally prepare myself for the barrage. Yet the thing is, why is it acceptable to degrade women of smaller proportions—calling them eating disordered and, essentially, not even “real” women—and it’s not okay to simply say that women come in all shapes and sizes, including but not limited to extra small?
And here’s the deal too: yes, I used to be anorexic—but that was an emotional problem. It had nothing to do, really, with my shape or size. It had to do with not wanting to own my emotions and deal with becoming a woman—because women do have curves.
Real women do have butts and breasts and maybe even little rolls in their armpits. We also have responsibilities, feelings, thoughts and dreams and it’s not always easy to grow up. At the same time, just because your parts are bigger than mine doesn’t mean you’re healthier, more of a grown woman or better in any way—just like I’m not better either.
And women will not stop being criticized, compared or defined until we stop defining ourselves first.
So, go ahead: own your curves and your real-woman ass. It’s awesome—for real. I, too, am fabulous with my miniature bosom and scrawny arms—and I’m still strong. You are too.
Muscles, skin, bones, fat—they make up both of us, regardless of what size jeans and bras we wear.
So, yes, please, rock on with your bad self—I will also. I work hard to feel good about who I am, inside and out, and I know you do too.
I’m merely offering that we consider that the opposite of a “real” woman isn’t necessarily a skinny one.
No, come to think of it, the opposite of a real woman is a phony one—and I’m being genuine in my body, like you are in yours.
And let’s agree to disagree, or better still, let’s agree that a woman isn’t determined by something as inconsequential as facts—and figures.