To my friends, men and women.
Smaller is not better.
Smaller is only smaller. Smaller means squeezing into smaller holes or under tables. Smaller means fewer square inches of clothing to cover you or a shorter bed to sleep on. When did a moral value become part of that equation? When did a small girl become better than a big girl?
Remember when you were growing up, when you gained inches and pounds and people congratulated you? When someone looked at you, said “who’s such a big girl?” and it was a good, even praised, occurrence? When you finally got out of little girl clothes and into grown-up clothes? And how those were such good qualities and achievements. Remember.
No longer is that the case. As young as eight, seven, six, girls are told they are big, that they are not worthwhile because of this, that they must change their bodies’ natural progressions and growth to fit what’s demanded of them and what will continue to be demanded of them for the rest of their miserable lives. How we’re now congratulated on achieving that shape, that size, which should not be aimed for by anyone past puberty. Then how we’re chastised for embracing our own shape and told that, if we’re ever to reach a point in which we are praised again or told we are doing well, it will be when we look once again like little girls.
But only part of us may look like a little girl! No. The waist must be that of a little girl. The hips must be that of a grown woman. The thighs must be those of a little girl. The breasts. If you have little girl breasts, you have nothing. So those must be of a grown woman, and the bigger, the better.
Where did this sick, twisted, absurd concept come from? Why is it here and what point does it serve? I know all this but still, when I see a young woman about my age walk through a coffee shop or down an aisle of a grocery store, I am hit. With a twinge, with a pang, with jealousy, with I’ll-never-be-good-enoughs. It doesn’t matter how much you fight it, we’re not going to be able to crawl our big bodies over the rubble that’s been left us to sort through for truth. The rubble that says we’re worthless, we have nothing, we are nothing, without those bodies of supermodels who have the bottom ribs taken out. Taken out for what, you may ask? Why, to take up less room, after all. Because smaller is better. It will always be better and it has always been better.
But wait. Take a look at that and then take a look at history. Decades between 1900 and today saw changes back and forth between emphasis of curvy figures and boyish, prepubescent shapes (or lack of shapes). Before the twentieth century, corsets, enhancing a woman’s hips and breasts, had been popular for half of a millennium. Look at how far we are coming. Women today are emphasizing muscles, strength instead of waifish weakness, and an independence instead of need for someone to hold her up while she struggles to breathe. Women, we are in the brand new era of loving ourselves more than we ever have and more than we can imagine. We are going to take this and run with it today and tomorrow and this next year and the one after that. We have this chance to seize our femininity by the horns (or… whatever you want to grab it by) and run with it.
So if you have the small body, congratulations! You have a body and it is beautiful. If you have a big body, congratulations! You have a body and it is beautiful. If you’re right in the middle or leaning one way or another, congratulations! You have a body and it is beautiful.
(to be continued?)