Failure to be Thin

cross posted on Kids In the Suburbs

Beanpole.

String bean.

All legs and arms.

Gangly.

Fragile.

Those
were words and phrases I heard all my life. I was always the tall,
thin, awkward one. I grew up but never out. Which, of course, was
perfectly fine with me...except for the awkward part anyway. I happily
remained a size zero through high school until I got pregnant and
gained just under one hundred pounds! Yes, I packed on 97 total pounds
during my first pregnancy.

I thought for sure that would all
change after my first child was born. But when he was three months old
people began asking me if I was sick because I was so thin. I had lost
all of the weight. And that was great...except people started making
odd comments about how I must have had an eating disorder and trying to
shame me for being thin after having a baby. I quickly learned that
when people asked me about my weight--and they did, a lot--I should
just smile and change the subject because it brought out a strange
passive hostility toward me.

I continued this for a while.
Three more kids and I was still buying size two pants. My metabolism
was just freakishly high and long and lean was my body type. I still
got rude comments and people still tried to make me feel badly because
I was thin after four kids...like thinness is the epitome of beauty.
Trust me, I didn't need anyone to help me feel badly about myself...I
had a horrible self-image
already. My nose was too big. My complexion was awful. My hair was
straw. I had no boobs or butt. My weight was the one thing I didn't
have to hate about myself. It was as if people wished I would gain
weight. I didn't get it.

Then two major things happened. 

I quit a-not-so secret smoking habit and I turned 30.

That first year I gained around thirty pounds.

And then another twenty.

And,
those who wished I would have gained weight all those years were
suddenly giddy when the topic would come up. Like my extra weight was a
big unspoken "told ya so". So my complexion still sucks. My nose is
still too big. My hair is still straw. I still have no butt. Now, I get
to add weight to the list--the one thing I thought I had going for me.
(The bigger boobs are okay with me!)

My failure to be thin is
another thing to figure out and I am slowly working on it. I am down
from my heaviest weight. I don't want to be as thin as I was because,
frankly, I hated how most people were passive aggressive toward me. I'm
not ready for that again. Somewhere in the middle would be good.

I don't know how I'll end up. But I don't think that is the point really.

New
words define me now...more important words like wife and mother and
compassionate. I like those much better because no matter what, no
matter what numbers pop up on my scale's display those kinder words
will always be true.

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