What I am talking about is.. roundness, podginess, chubbiness.. take your pick. Basically, the social unacceptability of talking about one's weight. Especially women's.
The Man once made the horrid mistake of dismissing a very cool cape I was trying on because 'it made me look chunky'. You can imagine the icy silence that followed, the quick gathering of my possessions and the storming out of the shop. Thing is, he was right. I looked totally crap. And huge. But hearing it spelt out seriously dented my already shaky confidence. Which is why few things are as offensive as the 'f' word. 'She looks fat these days.' 'How could he possibly run off with her?? She is fatter than me!!' 'OMG, I am so fat I am in this photo, destroy it now!!' And so on. You know the drill. You have heard it all before. Or said it yourself.
Body weight fixations can impinge on relationships. Tear explosions in the middle of an earthy dinner, hysteria while getting dressed for a big occasion, love-making strictly in the dark.. I remember a friend swearing like a trooper at her image in the mirror on her wedding day, refusing to get married if we didn't find a solution for her (non-existing) protruding stomach. Watching someone you love torturing themselves and hiding away is painful. And frustrating. As confidence needs to be built from within, not from how others see us.
And BTW, if ever buy lingerie for a woman, make sure you know the exact size: too big and the reaction will be 'you think I am fat!' Too small and 'OMG, I am sooo fat!' In both cases, nobody is going to get laid..
At this point, the chubiness counter-terrorism would state that in reality men prefer rounder ladies. This is probably an unfair generalisation. Some like thin, some like round. Chances are, we only end up going out with the people who fancy our particular body type, as a pre-screening is automatically performed the moment gazes cross. That would be him staring at her tits and her staring at his butt.
I personally like a man with a bit of a belly. A spare tyre around to middle to squeeze when hugged. Something to hold on to, to make me feel grounded and real.
This is all good in theory, but with the summer holidays looming, how will we survive the beach walk of shame? Chances are, I will look like a whoopie pie.. Am I proud of it? Not really. Am I in tears about it? No, otherwise I would have done something to avoid it. And yet I wonder. Why should I strive to be a size 6 or 8 (aka 38 or 40)? Who decided I looked better in tiny clothes?
At the end of the day, I am me. I am healthy, I am happy, and I am round. Shoot me.
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