CW: Self-harm, body shaming, body image issues, etc. This is a guest post.
So here’s how it is:
Over the past few months I’ve been seeing a lot of people actively campaigning against fat-shaming, which is awesome. You know, it’s not like everyone who is “overweight” or “pudgy” can control their weight. Sometimes it’s genetic; sometimes, a medication or health issue can significantly affect someone’s weight. There are a lot of reasons why people can be overweight, not just a lack of exercise and overindulgence in fast food.
So I think it’s fucking great that people are acknowledging this and encouraging people to be their own person and not give a fuck about what others think about them.
But the anti-fat-shaming campaign has led to images like these:
This is not okay, and here is why:
I’m 20 years old. I didn’t hit 90 pounds until my senior year of high school. When I was 12, I was the height of the average 9 year old and the weight of the average 7 year old.
Thinness is in my blood. The women on my mother’s side were all very thin until pregnancy, and most of my father’s side is also thin. Additionally I spent at least two days a week doing tae kwon do for 12 years, in addition to PE classes, field hockey, softball, and weight training in high school.
Currently I weigh 105. I am 5’4, and have a BMI of 18.0. The normal BMI weight is listed as 18.5 – 24.9. Anything under 18.5 is considered underweight.
Why am I telling you this? I’m not trying to brag, nor say I possess the perfect human form, because I don’t.
I say it because I want you to keep it in mind when you read the rest.
I have been called fat. Guys have told me, upon my revealing my body to them, that they thought my “stomach would be flatter” or my thighs “would be thinner.”
I’ve had guys comment on my physique — not my face — and not in a positive way.
The photo above was taken a few weeks ago. There are scars on my side from cutting, a response I used to take to any sort of mental trauma that sashayed my way. These scars were from one such occasion: A guy I’d known for a year took off my shirt and said, “You aren’t as skinny as you were last summer.”
All my life, my girlfriends always said, “I wish I was as skinny as you.” And I hate it. Always.
It seems like a compliment, right? But what it ends up being is a challenge. A challenge to that skinny girl to stay as skinny, if not skinnier, than she is. To her, one extra pound makes her less than she was before.
Beyond that, the thing I’ve heard most from other skinny people and the thing I hate the most is that I’m never allowed to express dissatisfaction with my body.
When I say, “I feel fat,” my friends frown at me and tell me that’s awful, because if I’m fat, then what am I calling them? If I say that I’ve got stomach pudge, or my thighs touch, I’m like Kim Kardashian saying she isn’t rich and famous enough. I’m attention seeking, compliment fishing.
No, I’m not. I’m just as allowed to be genuinely dissatisfied with my appearance as someone who is overweight is.
[Ed: It’s pretty weird that, for most people, saying “I feel fat” is the same as saying “I feel like my body is unappealing.” Once again, when society merges the concepts of “fat” and “bad,” it doesn’t do anyone any favors.]
Images and slogans like the one above — “Bones are for dogs, meat is for men” — criticize women who are skinny. How many of us decided when we were born we were going to be skinny? Like many people who face obesity, we have so many factors that make up our weight: exercise, diet, and fucking genetics. It’s not always something anybody can control.
So to you anti-fat-shamers out there: Say your part. Your message is awesome, until you start demeaning people for being thin. It’s exactly what you’re trying to fight: body shaming. And we don’t like it.
This is a guest post! Katie Sheerin is a native Washingtonian living in Illinois and studying in Wisconsin. She loves history, maps, and llamas. Want to write for That Girl Magazine? Click here!
The post come on, skinny love: body shaming goes both ways appeared first on that girl magazine.
