I grew up—as I’m learning many big girls do—with an obviously beautiful, effortlessly slender older sister. Which meant that my perpetual overweight-ness was often a source of confusion (for my parents) and tension (between my sister and I). It also meant that I had a specimen—of the Skinnius Gurlus variety—to observe, up close and personal. For other big girls it isn’t always a sister. It may be a petite best friend, or an infuriatingly thin bully, or an actress on The CW that could accurately be described as willowy. Whoever it may be, these skinny girls are usually the perfect case study. As a kid I didn’t realize how many traits I’d come to associate with skinny girls through studying them, all the while hoping some of their metabolism might rub off on me.
Skinny girls eat apples, with the skin.
Skinny girls only like sour candy, including but not limited to: Skittles, Nerds, Sour Straws, Mike and Ikes and Starbursts. Anything with chocolate is out.
Skinny girls drink water all the time. They always carry a water bottle.
Skinny girls wear layers (e.g. a cardigan over a blouse over a tank top). They have to ward off the cold since they have less blubber.
Skinny girls are always cold.
Skinny girls love summer.
Skinny girls love shopping.
Some are unintentionally scientific—drinking water can help people lose weight. Others are based on personal testimonies from actual skinny girls. But most of my assumptions about skinny girls are just that—assumptions. They’re what my young mind came up with to explain why I looked a certain way and others didn’t.
I never liked summer because the heat would make my thighs sweat and rub together. I assumed skinny girls weren’t subject to this—hello, thigh gap! Only recently have I discovered the truth: healthy women with weights proportional to their height still probably won’t have a thigh gap. In fact, the body type which allows for a thigh gap is quite specific and uncommon—which is to say, for everyone else it’s very difficult to “achieve” a thigh gap. Similarly, I thought skinny girls loved shopping because they could just buy whatever, whereas I was stuck making sure that the shirts I liked came in a size Large. Not so, I’ve learned—not so at all. Thin women often have an equally hard time finding clothes that fit them comfortably.
Perhaps the point of this is that I was once a naïve child who romanticized a different body type because I was unsatisfied with my own. However, if that’s the point then I can just say, “Well, I know better now. Guess I can move on!”
No. I cannot move on. None of us can move on.
We all want what we don’t have—the age-old adage of, “I wish I had bigger/smaller boobs!” is one example. Or the opposite but equal romanticizing of taller girls by shorter girls, and shorter girls by taller girls.
So is the point to love yourself as you are? Yes, that’s always the point. But my point is—study yourself.
I devoted ungodly amounts of time to the examination of skinny girls, in an effort to uncover their secrets, when I should have been uncovering myself. Yep, I mean that metaphorically and physically. How often do we look at ourselves with a critical but admiring eye, seeking to discover the mysteries of our own magic?
I challenge you. Look in a mirror—have a go. Discover my own magic? That’s hella vague, girl. Yes, I’m being vague on purpose; because even worse than telling you exactly what to look for would be me presuming to tell you what you’ll find.
