When I was young, people always used to tell me how cute and little I was. I was a really small child. I was able to squeeze my eight year old self into a Snow White costume made for four-year-olds. I was scrawny. But then puberty happened and I “filled out” or whatever, and ever since then I’ve struggled with my size. I’m short, like really short. So it’s hard to find clothes that fit me how they fit normal people.
And then, on April 10, 2012, I turned 21 years old and it all when down hill. There are a lot of calories in booze, ya’ll. Basically, since puberty my weight has fluctuated between 3-8 pounds in a single day. My metabolism is completely shot from years of skipping college meals because I was in a hurry or eating at 3am. Lately, I’ve been trying to get my body back to a place where I can feel sexy strutting my stuff in a bikini, and I know it’s going to take some work. Honestly, the temptations of comfort food sometimes outweigh (pun intended) my want to be in better shape, but I’ve been going to the gym and working out pretty hard for a little while now.
Last week, I was taking a Zumba class at my campus rec center. It was really, ungodly hot in the studio where we were shaking our stuff. I took off my t-shirt and started the rest of the workout in a sports bra and tank top that was probably too small. It was a class full of girls. I thought I had nothing to worry about until I heard someone mutter “ew” under their breath. To be fair, they could have easily not been talking about me, but it sent my brain in a tizzy. I ended up putting my t-shirt back on. I was infuriated. …Until last night when Stephen and I were hanging out in a bar trying to win a trip to Vegas.
This woman ordered an entree and devoured it pretty quickly. She was overweight. And I heard myself muttering the same “ew” under my breath. I, all of a sudden, realized how disrespectful I was being. If that woman is overweight, she’s aware of it, and she doesn’t need my judging eyes all over her entree while she’s trying to enjoy herself. Girls are more alike than we like to think sometimes, and if I were a betting woman, I would bet she isn’t happy about her weight. If she’s working on it, great! If not, that’s still fine. Basically, it’s none of my business. Her weight, or mine, or anybody’s for that matter shouldn’t be commentary over drinks. It just doesn’t matter.
Bold girls don’t body shame.
Molly is a senior journalism/English major at a school you haven’t heard of in a state you haven’t heard of. She’s obsessed with Chandler Bing, English bulldogs, and cheese. Follow her on twitter @gwacamolly, or check out her website accordingtomolly.com.