“You look so skinny, Cailey!” Words every girl wants to hear. Nothing makes us feel more self-assured than people telling us how thin we look. But why? Why is it that when someone tells us we’re pretty or beautiful we don’t believe them, yet we live to hear that we’re skinny? It’s because in a society where a size 0 is a measure of beauty, every girl is trying to measure up.
As a young sophomore in high school, weighing almost 170 pounds didn’t bother me. I was happy and content with myself. It wasn’t until I watched a friend battle bulimia, and later anorexia, that my size started to matter. I was able to fight off rude remarks and teasing made by my fellow peers about my weight. I held on to the belief that I was beautiful no matter what. That all changed when I went to college.
One terrible breakup and a lot of stress later, I dropped 40 pounds and was finally “skinny.” For just once, everyone brought up my weight. Comments such as, “Wow, you look great” and “You’re so skinny” became part of my everyday life. My weight seemed to be the one factor about my life that everyone concerned themselves with. Soon after, the weight obsession started.
Everyday was a battle with the mirror, every morning was a chance to pick apart my body. Every window, every mirror, every tiny reflection was a chance for me to scope my appearance. I became obsessed with the word “skinny. Every person I came into contact with had to tell me I was skinny. If they didn’t, I felt fat. I felt ugly. I lived and breathed by the compliments of others. My friends and boyfriend would tell me I was pretty, but it was never enough. I wanted to hear that I was thin, that my weight was acceptable.
My weight kept dropping, and the thinner I got, the more obsessed I became. My food became compliments. I ran everyday and ate less and less. It became a sickness that I wouldn’t admit to. All I cared about was being told how skinny I looked. I would bring up my weight just to have someone tell me I was thin. Nothing else mattered.
It all went downhill. One day I got out of the shower and my stomach sunk. I looked at myself as I did every five minutes, and realized I could count my ribs. I could see every bone in my body. I became the very thing I swore to never be, a skeleton. It was living every girls dream and but it had turned into a nightmare and I wasn’t waking up. I vowed to myself that night, that no matter my size, I would get healthy again.
Now, I didn’t spill my sob story for pity, or for you to tell me that I’m still skinny. Keep that for yourself. I told you this because I want to save you from my nightmare. We, as girls, are the toughest critics. We compare ourselves to models and photoshopped pictures, and wonder why we have no confidence. We sit and pick apart our bodies and see every flaw, instead of realizing how beautiful we really are.
Ask any guy; they don’t want a bag of bones. At my lowest weight, I was told that I wasn’t attractive and that I needed some curves on my body. Wait, what? I spent the past two years of my life losing my pudge and now you tell me that you liked it? The media and society tells us that we need to be small and tiny, yet guys want curves. They want that big booty and a nice rack. Harsh as it sounds, they want a girl, a living-breathing girl who has those flaws. They don’t want a skeleton that they might break if they squeeze you too hard.
My best friend Maddy tweeted something a couple weeks ago that hit me. Victoria Secret sent out a “Love my Body” Campaign. On the cover were girls in lingerie. All size zeros, with no boobs, no butts, only bones. Oh, and they were photoshopped to look even skinnier. Dove responded with a “Real Beauty” campaign. The women were all shapes and all sizes. Now yes, more men look at the VS pictures, but those aren’t women. They aren’t real. You’re aspiring to be a computer-generated person, and wondering why you’re bawling yourself to sleep every night from failure.
If you take one thing away from my article, I hope it’s this: The word “skinny” isn’t evil at first, it’s the greatest word ever said to you. But then, it’ll eat you alive. It will rule your world. You don’t need it. Ban it from your life. I had to. I want to be told that I’m healthy, that I’m beautiful and intelligent. And yes, it’s easier for me to say, just sitting here and still considered “skinny”, but I don’t want it. I would rather be 200 pounds and happy with myself, than skinny and worry about my weight every second. Try to replace the word “skinny” with the word “healthy.” You are beautiful and are worth so much more than any pant size or number on a scale. You have dreams and goals, reach those, not some size.