I’ve never been a small gal. Curvy, fit, strong, chubby, heavy, plus sized– I’ve held each of those titles at some point through my life – but never small, never petite.
For a long time it seemed as though feminine or beautiful only came in one size. At the age of 38 I’ve finally become ok with my build. I’ve made peace with most things about me. Yes, I’m plus sized right now, and no I’m not happy about it, but that doesn’t take away my beauty. That title doesn’t take away my spark. It shouldn’t mean that I need sit in the sidelines while others take the stage. It’s where I’m at on the scale – it is not where I am in life. Not anymore.
A top of the plus sized status, I’m also beautiful, smart, funny, witty, introspective, creative, and open minded. Actually, I’m pretty fucking great.
I found myself at a party recently – it was filled with bloggers, writers, social media types. The room was busy with extroverts doing their thing on the dance floor, telling animated stories in small groups, and drinking wine. The vibe was fun, it made me happy, and so I stood there quietly – soaking it in.
I saw a trio of gals standing quietly together. They looked pretty uncomfortable so I said “Hi” and asked them if they were having a good time. They held their wine close to their chest; bodies tucked in, and nodded. I chatted about the party and how amazing everyone looked. One of the gals, visibly irritated with me, rambled about ‘those girls’ partying and made reference to parties not being quite as fun for “girls like us”.
Huh?
I didn’t quite understand.
Bloggers? Writers? Introverts?
No – I looked at the trio up and down. She meant the fat girls – me included.
Despite moving forward in my own mind, the ‘fat girl’ club was still alive and well, and I was about to be their newest recruit.
No thanks, ladies.
I laughed, I lifted my glass to them, and gave them great big cheers – and then I got the fuck out of there. Me and my size 18 ass had some twerking to do.