We just don't know who to step on anymore, do we? Once upon a time, we loved the curvy, fleshy bodies that belonged to every single model who ever posed for a painting -- the "Rubenesque" women. Then, as time and fashion influenced what little independent thinking we could muster up on our own, we -- en masse -- decided that we not only hated everything plump and round, we also had to simultaneously worship the opposite: the uber-skinny.
As a majority, love of the super thin ideal has given us the built-in right to treat fat people like garbage. I mean, of all the groups on the planet, nobody's game like the fat group. Oh sure, we balance on eggshells around anything political, we keep it "PC" for the sake of looking like we give a rat's ass, but when it comes down to what anyone can say to a fat person, it's always open season.
Say what you want about a fat person. They have no feelings. After all, they deserve it, right? Because they're lazy, gluttonous, selfish and self-loathing anyway, right? Right? Aren't all fat people worthy of being made fun of, non-stop, for their entire lives? And don't fat women exist just to take the brunt of every joke there is?
Face it, world: What you've done to the fat woman's mind is inexcusable. Even down to the fact that saying the word, "fat" is like some kind of curse, and if a person's been labeled "fat," well, they might as well accept that they're the lowest form of scum on the planet -- if they're going to eat all that food, then they're going to have eat our unending insults too. So there, fat people! Suck it!
I also think that this kind of thinking would stick around until the end of time if it weren't for it's one major fiscal flaw: Hating fat women isn't as lucrative as one might think. There's money to be made by supporting fat women, and it's not only about making them feel bad enough to buy diet drinks.
Larger women are not able to fit into some of the trendy new looks and so they aren't able to spend the almighty dollar on them -- leaving a sprawling gap in the pockets of clothing designers who neglect this entire demographic. The consciousness of the times starts looking bleak: "Hey, we fat girls are sick of being made fun of, and we're sick of being sold clothes that only look good on skinny women!"
Spin, spin, spin goes the media mind and out comes a fresh! new! bold! idea: Real Women Have Curves!
Oh my God, how novel, how absolutely cutting edge! We said it, we "went there," we are so brave and true with our daring and in-your-face, rebellious call to arms. Revenge of the Fat Girl is alive and well! Real women have curves, which means we are not those other women, those unreal, skinny women who have no curves -- those horrible bony beasts who have had way too much time in the spotlight representing what women are, when -- ugh, just look at them -- they clearly are not "real" women! Because, as we all know now, real women have curves!
Sold to the highest bidder.
So, now, in order to feel good about being large, you have to loathe what's small. You can't just love your self, you have to hate someone else. Those Victoria's Secret Angels? If you're snorting and huffing and puffing over how sickly they look and how vile they are with their slim legs and their pouty young wet lips, then, doll face, you've bought the entire package. You are now a full-blown hater. You're everything you wanted to get away from. Now you know what it's like to be on the other side of the fence. Now, you too, can hate.
Interestingly enough, the slimbo's still rule the roost. Despite the "real women have curves" propaganda, there are people who still dig the living crap out of watching those poor, dying women prance around in their push-up bras and barely-there panties.
Because guess what? Real women sometimes don't have curves. Let me tell you exactly what real women have:
Number one: they all have vaginas. If you've got a vagina, you're a real women.
Real women have:
scars of all kinds
hair in unwanted places
menstrual issues, and on and on...
Sometimes we're gorgeous and sometimes we're not, but whatever we are, REAL is what we all are -- curves or not.
I know, somebody has to make money off our neuroses and self-hate -- that's just the way of the world, but come on, do we really have to constantly step on the face of someone else in order to feel good about who we are? Must we insist on phrases like, "Real women have curves"? What about those who don't have curves?
What about women who do have curves, and what constitutes for a curve? A size 12? Size 4? Boobs that are high and perky? A butt that's round but not too round? Not too big, not too flat, not too wide? How curvaceous are we "allowed" to be before we sacrifice ourselves to public ridicule?
Where do we draw the line on what's right and what's wrong as far as what real human beings are "supposed" to look like, considering we all look radically different and come in so many different body types?
I mean, you can't tell me real women have curves and show me a photo of a plus-size super model whose curves are perfectly proportionate and cellulite-free. You can't tell me real women have curves and at the same time ridicule a woman who is larger than a size 18. You can't sell me the idea that the Victoria's Secret model is both perfection and an insult to society. You can't tell a young, slim teenage girl that she's not a woman because she has no curves and you can't tell her best friend that she's way too fat to be taken seriously by a world that can't get it's messages right.
So, what's it going to be? Skinny hate? Fat hate? We hate ourselves, our bodies? We're not women anymore because, what -- we've self hated ourselves into a corner and we can't get out? Are we so consumed with the guilt of our hate and the jealousy we feel for everything we cannot be that we have to instantly pump ourselves up with some kind of false sense of superior pride? I've got curves so I'm better than you, you stinky model, you!
Every woman on this planet is a real woman. There is not one single "type" that is better or womanlier than another. There is not one woman who holds the title of supreme, but... real? Real is what we all are.
Real is what we all are. Dig it if you can.
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