Monday, May 12, 2008

Now and then, I get insecure*

A friend told me I looked fabulous today. I shrugged it off.

Of course I don’t look fabulous.

I am fat.

I am not, ‘oh, hai, I am a size 14 and can still shop in the regular ladies’ section’ fat; I am a bona fide size 20 with more than 1 chin. I am legitimately plus size.

But wait.

I am lovely. I am wearing white and denim with silver touches today, and feeling quite boho. My hair is pinned up and styled in my favorite punk-meets-secretary updo. My eye makeup skills get better with age, and my lip gloss is Sephora. My skin has an olive undertone, and despite some stray hairs courtesy of my Gypsy ancestry, is quite clear, and, well, glowing.

I accessorize religiously. I shop for clothes like an Indiana Jones expedition. I embrace colour and style, and gigantic shiny earrings. I am usually the best dressed person in a room, as I pride myself on finding the perfect outfit for every occasion. But I always have that little tiny SIZE ISSUE in the back of my mind.

I have come a long way in the past year, as far as accepting my size, and loving myself. I eat healthy foods, I maintain a level of activity, I take my vitamins, and I love my body for being healthy.

But just today did I realize I could love it for being fabulous.

It doesn’t matter what size I am. I don’t have to shrug off compliments. I don’t have to wonder if the men who hit on me are chubby chasers. I don’t have to feel I am cheating Jason out of a thin, gorgeous wife. He has a zaftig, gorgeous wife.

I AM fabulous, thanks very much.


*From "Beautiful" by Christina Aguilerra.

3 comments:

Type (little) a said...

I'm a size 20 also (my 18s have gotten tight since I quit smoking), and it does bother me sometimes.

The rest of the time, I just don't give a fuck.

And Rebecca, you DO look fabulous. Love the glasses.

Ash said...

Squeeze me? Chubby chasers? What?

Girlfriend, men do not really give a shit about size. My grandmother was well beyond a size 20 when she married my grandfather, her second husband. And Jason love you just the way you are, I'd bet money on it.

Besides, we woman know (or should know, by now)men don't care about the size of your waist. They care about the size of your BOOBS. Of which you have plenty and so shall never have to worry.

Me on the other hand? Well I stopped breastfeeding recently and I'm down to an A.

DID YOU HEAR ME? I SAID A! At least Jason hasn't said anything to you about cosmetic changes, unlike my husband who has on more than one occasion made flippant remarks about how he misses the big boobs and would I please think about implants, or at least gain 20 pounds so I can have something more in the boob department.

Ps. I fucking WANT/NEED/MUST HAVE those earrings. Where did you get them?

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