Skinny

I am skinny. Not the “cute skinny” or the “fit skinny”, I am just skinny. No, I’m not anorexic and no, I don’t have any illness that’s causing it. I just am.

Today I want to talk about my experience with skinny shaming. Yes you read that correctly. Skinny. S-K-I-N-N-Y. wow that’s a new phrase to some people which is honestly pretty weird in my opinion, but we’ll roll with it.

For starters, let’s clear up some things. First, I’m not trying to get you to pity me. That’s ridiculous. Also, I don’t want you to tell me how happy I should be for being skinny and how you wish you were or how lucky I am, because in all honesty, that’s ridiculous too. It’s a body type. Secondly, I don’t actively try to stay skinny. I don’t work out regularly unless it’s tennis season and even then it’s not much and i don’t go on any elaborate diets.

Let’s start by discussing the way I feel about it. As a person, I don’t notice body type. I notice things like eyes and smile and hair. Is that cliche? Probably. Although in my defense, it’s easier to stare right in front of you than scanning up and down someones body upon just glancing at them. So with that being said it is slightly infuriating when you see someone staring at your body like it is a product for them to buy and to have the nerve after they stare to get a look of pity in their eyes and resort to the default comment of “you need to eat a cheeseburger”. Really? I need to eat a cheeseburger. Well that sounds great if I hadn’t just ate some chicken nuggets, a large fry, and a milkshake from the nearest Burger King. Thank you for reminding me that I, a seventeen year old girl, need to feed myself. I can and I have already taken care of it and I have been for a long time, but thank you anyway. I appreciate your concern.

My favorite thing I think anyone has ever said to me about this issue is “are you anorexic” that one shocks me the most. Now someone tell me: Why on earth would you ask anyone if they had anorexia? Anorexia is a serious illness and is not to be taken lightly. For example: I was out running some errands one day and decided to pick up a smoothie from smoothie king. As I was ordering my smoothie of choice, the lady behind the counter was curious if I have anorexia asked if my smoothie was a meal replacement and invited me to a support group her church had, all within the first two minutes of our interaction . For a minute I stared at her and when I focused back in on this middle aged lady I put a smile on my face and told her thanks for the offer, collected my smoothie, and walked straight to my car. Hurt.

The heaviest I have ever been in my entire life is 106 pounds, but I at average sit around 99 pounds. I am anywhere between 12-19 pounds underweight if I take the bare minimum of the healthy weight. When my boyfriend picks me up, he notes that I’m as light as a feather, and when my best friend makes comments that she’s 140 pounds and that’s what I should be and I know that should be my goal and it hurts. It hurts a lot. You can tell I’m 99 pounds. You can see it in my pictures by looking at my twig like legs and my arms that look like chicken wings. You see it when I’m in a bikini with my hipbones protruding and my spine lightly sticking out. This was how I was made and something I shouldn’t be ashamed of and shouldn’t have to be considering going on weigh gain pills. I should be proud of who I am. I am not my weight. So why to others does it seem like I walk around with an I am 99 pounds sticky note taped to my back.

To end this all, once and for all (hopefully). I know what I weigh. I stand on the scale every day see the numbers. I know. I see it for myself and I know what I look like. No I don’t have an illness and yes I’m perfectly normal. I am just me, although to you, the people that call me sticks and skinny minis and anorexic: you know me as 99, because thats all you seem to care about anyway.