I write this post as I’ve just unpackaged my ASOS order. Amongst many things I ordered was a pair of jeans, some jeans I loved, and was really looking forward to wearing. I tried them on, but as I got them to my hips, they just wouldn’t go any further. There was no way they were the right size for me; even if I had gone on a crash diet that very second, there was something in the way; a pair of child bearing hips, that try as I might, no amount of eating salads or doing sit ups would get rid of.
I find this really strange to write, because my entire life I’ve struggled with my weight in the opposite sense.
I was always the thin as a pin girl at school, but not in a way that made the boys fancy me or girls envy my figure; my wrists looked like they were going to snap, my ribs jutted out, I had no breasts or bum to speak of. People literally asked me if I was anorexic, or if I didn’t eat. ‘You could do with a good burger’ people used to say.
Then as I got older, being ‘skinny’ was seen as a gift from God. People would tell me how unbelivabley lucky I was, what a fast metabolism I must have, and that they’d give anything to be able to eat what they want and not gain any weight.
The past year, I started to put on weight. I’d been a size 6, sometimes even a size 4, my entire teenage and adult years, and now I can only get into a size 8 if it’s loose fitting or from a certain brand; Missguided, Topshop, those are the main 2 who still let me fit snugly into their size 8 clothing.
I’m not fat, nowhere near, and it wouldn’t matter if I was. People still regard me as slim, my arms and my legs are still slim, it’s just that all of a sudden everything I eat has decided to run straight to my hips and stomach and refuse to move.
But I have punished myself for this; punished myself day in, day out, as I’ve seen myself gain weight, and grow to a size that is STILL multiple sizes below the UK national average dress size. I was used to never having a stomach roll when I sat down, never having to struggle to tug an item of clothing over my bum, never getting stressed out in a changing room because I couldn’t fit into my usual size.
This is now an everyday occurance for me and I’m sick of it; sick of feeling shit about myself and my body simply because I’m a woman and guess what?! Unfortunately our bodies are designed in a way that we have to have hips, some bigger than others, and our fat does go to our stomachs, and to our bums and our hips and our thighs.
If I’m being honest, I’ve hated myself everyday that I’ve looked in the mirror for the past few months because I have seen the change and felt it’s my own fault. And yes, maybe I do eat one too many pizzas and chocolate bars, but where’s the crime in that? I’m not clinically obese and putting my life in danger, and even if I was that wouldn’t have anything to do with anyone but myself.
I’m writing this blog post because I want to tell you all that it’s okay to put on weight, it’s okay to lose it, it’s okay to be whatever damn size you want to be, because it’s YOUR body no one elses. And weight; it’s not stuck to you forever, it can come off, you can lose it, you can change your body.
I’m not going to let myself feel bad about looking in the mirror anymore simply because in being a woman, I’ve changed sizes since I was a 16 year old girl who was a tiny little thing and size 6 shorts hung off her; I am a woman. That is hard enough as it is.
It is hard enough to live in a world that says women are the weaker sex, that we must be beautiful and slim and intelligent, but not too beautiful and slim or we are a ‘tease’ or a ‘slut’, and not too intelligent or we are ‘boring’ or a ‘bitch’, and we must not wear certain things for fear of being sexually attacked or cat called, and we must be able to cook and clean but also have a job and also have children but not let it affect our careers.
We are told this every. Single. Fucking. Day. And I think it’s time we give ourselves a break. We have to put up with enough shit from certain men, from the media, from assholes like Donald Trump, and we don’t need to put up with shit from ourselves.
So what if I can’t fit into a pair of jeans because I’m still bloated from lunch, and I’ve treated myself a bit too much lately – who cares? There’s more important things happening in the world, and I can lose weight, fit into another pair of jeans, and move on from this. I’m not going to let it keep me up at night. I’m perfect just as I am.
All my love BGP xx