Day Four and Thigh Gap.

You know what I really don't understand?

Why is thigh gap a desirable thing?

I don't mean that as an offense to the women who are naturally very slight of frame; that's the way you are built and there is absolutely nothing wrong with it.  This question isn't about trying make anyone feel bad about their size.  

I know all too well what that feels like.

It's more that I don't understand how "society" (read: the media and pop culture) decided that in order to be "perfect" (socially acceptable and thin) your thighs can't touch.

We're not flamingos, man.

Even men's thighs touch.  

To be fair, this thought was prompted by the fact that I follow a lot of fashion blogs because I really love shoes.  Like, a lot.  And to run a fashion blog you practically have to be skinny, although I follow a couple of cool bloggers that are not super thin but they are much less prevalent than the slenderer bloggers. 

Which makes sense.

Thin has been synonymous with fashion for years and years.

But why would pop culture set this ridiculous standard that only few women can achieve?  Especially without starving themselves. 

I guess that probably is why.  It’s like royalty; everyone aspires but only a few can actually achieve it.

I’m just incredibly happy that feminism is helping bring about a rise of body positivity in women, especially. 

I’ve scrutinized every single detail of myself.  Picked, prodded, pinched, and pulled at myself until my skin was pink and cried in the shower because my favorite dress no longer would zip up past my boobs.  I’ve skipped dessert, I’ve skipped meals, I’ve skipped eating for an entire day and drunk a bottle of Gatorade so I didn’t pass out.

How is it that that’s okay?

How is it that no matter how many “love your body” campaigns I see on tv, no matter how many articles I read, there’s still this giant part of me that feels inadequate because of my size?

The thing is, for the last four months I stopped trying.  I stopped trying to lose weight and eat to make my acid stay where it’s supposed to. 

I was stressed out and unhappy and I didn’t want to worry about it.  So I didn’t.

In a way it was nice because the entire time I was in school I was constantly shaming myself internally.  Constantly looking at clothes I felt I could never wear again.  Constantly trying to lose weight but then giving up because I didn’t want to admit that I was trying to lose weight, I didn’t want to try and then fail to get back to the size I used to be, a size I actually loved, and because I didn’t want to lose the weight again only to gain it back.  Again.  That shit hurt enough the first time.

Here’s the truth:

I would give up a lot of things to be the size I used to be, and that’s more or less what I’m working toward right now.  Holding myself accountable to giving up those things is so incredibly hard, and I’m hoping I miss them less the longer I’m actually being healthy, but I’ve realized that if I can be comfortable in my own skin again it’s all worth it.

I have a love/hate relationship with my boobs.  I’m mostly fine with them until I try to buy a bra or put clothes on or I see a picture of myself and see how dowdy I look.

I can be okay with the fact that I have a booty, but I really would like it to be more muscle than fat.

More than anything I’m tired of having a tummy, which is incredibly hard to deal with when you have a maxed out chest and sit all day at work. 

I’ve felt pressure to be pretty and to be skinny since I was 10 years old.  And after 17 years that starts to weigh on you.  It starts to crush you.  And I’m tired of feeling trapped by it.

I hate admitting that I’m on a diet, but I guess I am.  Even though I’m considering it a lifestyle change more than a diet.  I live in a place where organics and farmer’s markets are EVERYWHERE, where it seems like people actually try to be health-conscious. 

It’s so incredibly inspiring. 

I want to be one of them.  I want to jog through my neighborhood with my dog and go home to make a green smoothie. 

I can’t afford to live somewhere that will let me have a dog yet and I don’t really like drinking things that taste like Kale.  But if I can eat a cabbage salad for lunch when I decided I was more or less okay with steamed cabbage about two months ago, then I can drink some kale.

Despite how it probably sounds, I’m okay if I can’t get back to the size I used to be, as long as I can prove to myself that I actually tried this time.  I’d rather be healthy and take care of myself than be thinner, even if that does mean my bra is going to continue to have to cut through a mile of back fat in order to barely hold my boobs in place.

I know my thighs are never going to not touch and I actually like that. 

I like looking womanly.  I like having a shape with curves on the edges of it.

I don’t like having to emergency poop in the TJ Maxx bathroom because I got stressed out trying to find granny panties that would squash my belly roll under a formal gown/wouldn’t make lines in the doughy sides of my ass and my body obviously doesn’t want to process the Burger King I had for lunch all the way. 

We’ll see how things go, but for now I’m still on the wagon.  So far I really like the view from up here.