Size 8

I honestly do not know why I have decided to start a blog but for some odd reason, I thought that what goes on in my head may be interesting to some people. I am a size 8. And for a while… after I have graduated after High School, I have been getting comments from random people telling me that I am fat. Don’t people know that the word “fat” is the worst thing to say to a girl? I get it mostly from family members and up until recently my boyfriend’s Uncle and some people at the Dance Center have implied that I am… fffff… fffff…. fat.

In my culture, the lighter you are, the prettier you are and the skinnier you are, the more beautiful you are. I am not even close to being pale white nor am I close to being stick skinny, so I am basically a very unattractive woman in my culture. Let’s face it, the culture we live in is based on appearance. I LOVE to eat. Well, I love good food. I especially love chocolate! Mmmmmm just the thought of warm dark chocolate makes my mouth salivate. I have once, maybe twice devoured a brownie and cupcake. It’s just so good and makes me forget about everything just for that moment. And then after, I feel horrible. That’s where all my negativity starts. I start wishing I were skinnier to satisfy myself and the people who have to look at me. I often think, “If I were a size 2, I could rule the world.” Yesterday, my mom told me that when I was in High School I was a size 4. It’s like she tries to find a reason for my weight gain. She somehow thinks that I have a thyroid problem because her friend has it and a symptom is weight gain. Yesterday, she blamed it on my birth control pills. I’ve been on my birth control pills for 7 years and of the 3 years, I haven’t gained a lot of weight. She acts as if I have gained 50 pounds within a year and I do know that is not the case. A couple years after High School, I stopped dancing every single minute of my life. That’s all.

You know I always think back to how I was back then and wish so much that I was still the same but it’s not really worth it. I think about my little cousin (let’s give her a fake name like Ellie) who is not skinny and think, “How many positive role models can she look up to that she knows personally and not feel bad about the way she looks?” A lot of the adults give her crap about her weight too. On Ellie’s 8th birthday this year, my family took her out to brunch and went shopping for her and her older sister. Her older sister is very tiny. When we picked out all of her older sister’s clothes, it was Ellie’s turn and my Grandma was not just choosing from the juniors section but also grabbing the largest size in the juniors section which is too big for Ellie. Then Ellie said to me, “She thinks I’m the biggest size.” I said to her, “It’s okay. And you are not the biggest size.” It’s Ellie who makes me proud of who I am today. Not some size 4 High Schooler my mom and grandma and my boyfriend’s irrelevant uncle wishes I were. It’s Ellie that makes me love my big hips, bubble butt and thunder thighs. And let’s not forget to mention my muffin top. I know that being a size 8 can often make me feel bad about myself but I really am working on it. There are more things in life to worry about than being a size 2. I think what my challenge is and several of my closest friends know this is to love myself the way I am. I used to love myself… in High School. But that’s because my family praised me for looking good. Now, I have something better than good looks… a brain. And I really do need to learn how to embrace and love the new and improved me.

“Fat” is a horrid word. If people are going to use that word to describe me. I am sure I can get back at them with something else like saying, “Well you’re getting old, what do you know?” So I guess I do know what I am blogging about. The everyday highs and lows of a size 8 twenty-something year old!

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