Free Girl Summer
This season of Shrill taught me why I didn’t like the show Shrill. I’ve watched the past two seasons as they streamed and thought they were fine. I love Aidy Bryant, but there was something about the show I didn’t love and couldn’t put my finger on until THEY put their finger on it this season.
I didn’t feel comfortable with the show because of my own personal shame around being the “fat girl”. I am so uncomfortable with my body that I was appalled that someone was reclaiming the word “fat” as a positive thing. I have always strived to be skinnier, so seeing women proud of how they look, without actively trying to shrink, made me feel judgmental.
In one episode, Annie gets set up on a date by her good friend. He says they’ll be “perfect together” and she’s very excited by the prospect. When she shows up, she sees that he’s a big guy. She automatically assumes that the reason her friend thought they’d be “perfect” together was because of their size. He then gets up to greet her and knocks over someone’s water glass. She is disgusted and angry and projects it all on him.
I’ve been on that exact date. Everyone that knew us thought me and this guy would be the perfect match. I was even vocal about my crush on him! We had similar senses of humor, mutual friends, and creative jobs. Literally, on paper, it was a great match. I had a lot of fun with him whenever I saw him and did on our eventual date. Yet, I couldn’t get over the stigma of both of us being the same size. I felt like we were both our friends’ funny, chubby friends and so, of course, we belonged together.
In high school, I decided that nobody would ever fall in love with me until I was thinner. It was honestly a pretty fucked up time in society. It was the era of tiny bejeweled Bebe shirts, low-rise jeans with thongs hanging out, and platform Volatile shoes. Popular shows at the time were Friends with gorgeous Rachel and Gilmore Girls with impossibly perfect Rory. Compared to them, and all the girls around me, I was nothing.
I still kind of feel that way. After all, I don’t have the best track record with men. I am guilty of spending years with two different men who kept me a secret. I briefly dated a guy who slept with me while I was concussed and then ghosted me for Florida. And my most serious, loving relationship was with a BLIND GUY. Imagine struggling with body image and having your most solid relationship be with A BLIND GUY. (I’m mostly joking, he’s only legally blind… and a great person.)
Maybe I feel that I deserve to be treated like I’m unimportant because I don’t treat myself with any importance. I am not a classic “hot girl”, so why would a man want to tie himself down to me? There are so many options out there! I sympathize with men who treat me like garbage because I get it! I’m garbage!
It’s funny because right now, I’m the lowest weight I've ever been as an adult, and do you know how it has changed my life? HUGELY. EVERYTHING HAS CHANGED AND I AM SO MUCH BETTER!! Just kidding. It hasn’t changed anything. I’m still as weird and insecure as ever, I just have smaller jeans.
For so long, I thought that was the key. Once I was thinner, then I’d be prettier, and then I’d be set for life. Doors would open for me, opportunities would come knocking and men would line up to be with me. It is what I assumed the “free and easy” life looked like.
I won’t pretend that losing weight hasn’t increased my confidence, but otherwise, it hasn’t affected my life at all. Everything that makes my life free and easy has nothing to do with my body. So why do women put SO MUCH EMPHASIS on how we look? Why do we spend our whole lives trying to accommodate other people’s potential feelings about our bodies? We wear jackets to prevent the world from seeing our arms, and shapewear to downplay our tummies and sports bras to make our boobs appear smaller even though it just makes us look like we have one wide boob.
Life will be free and easy when we stop believing the lies we tell ourselves on a regular basis. The lie that we’re ugly and undeserving because we’re not a size 2. The lie that we aren’t allowed to wear a bathing suit without covering ourselves up if we don’t have a flat stomach, muscular arms, and a gap between our thighs. The lie that we can’t be seen in public, wear whatever we want, or live a good life because we have a FUPA, acne, thick thighs, varicose veins, a double chin, cankles, a big nose, a long nose, dark circles, blackheads, whiteheads, brown eyes, gray hairs, thin lips, big feet, ETC.
I’m so tired of thinking about my body all the fucking time.
This is why last week I went to Palm Springs with my friends and made a vow to myself. I would wear dresses without covering my arms. I would wear my bathing suit without a skirt to cover my thighs. I wouldn’t mention my body at all or pick apart my flaws as a way to say, “Don’t worry I know!” or bond with each other over our body issues. I believed that I was 100% allowed to be surrounded by friends who love me, and I love them, and our bodies had nothing to do with it.
*cut to Patty getting a horrendous sunburn and realizing that some coverage is good coverage.*