On Being Pretty… “If Only.”
As I read her piece, I fumed.
Fumed with all the righteous anger that someone who was told the same damned thing by the same damned people (who say they’re only trying to help, but we love you).
Fumed with all the white-hot heat of someone who has beaten the shit out of my body to try to earn the carrot-on-a-stick approval of people whose self-hate drove the comments in the first place. And, if you do lose the weight, they now hate you even more for showing them you could.
As if… losing the weight and “becoming more pretty” were the whole point of life.
As if…being thinner, which causes jealousy and bitterness, would make life all better.
As if…being lighter made all things better.
If you’re a shit while fat, chances are you’re going to be a shit while skinny.
Because if you and I buy the lie that our weight determines our value in life, if we embrace the notion that the only things worth being in life are thin and pretty (or handsome and muscular for men) then we are fucking shallow indeed.
I did lose weight. Yah. I was still miserable in so many other areas of my life that being slim per se was largely meaningless. It was an accomplishment, of course. But until I did far more important personal work, having joy in life still eluded me.
In part because so much of my life centered around staying thin at all costs.
Or I might lose the approval of my tribe.
Think this woman would be “pretty” if she lost weight?
Kindly. Please invest in a pair of good glasses.
She’s gorgeous. All of her.
If losing weight is a journey you are undertaking because of health, because it is an act of self-love, or preservation for that matter, great. As with all things, it depends on your body type and what works for you.
But for the so-called love that people around us profess when they say that you’d be ever so much prettier or more handsome only if…
Honey, look in the mirror.
It ain’t pretty.