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It’s better to be alone than with someone who doesn’t like you with the body you have.
It’s better to be alone than with someone who doesn’t like you with the body you have.
It’s not just something about her. It’s everything about her.
Don’t make this awkward. Don’t be that fat girl. Don’t be the girl so desperate for affection that she abandons all pretense of dignity and begs for it. Don’t be eager, and don’t be clingy. Don’t draw attention to yourself. Don’t ask for more than what people want to give you, because they won’t want to give you much.
I’m furious that I live in a world that has the power to make me feel ugly and unlovable because of my body.
Girls like me, we didn’t get chased, we didn’t get claimed, we didn’t get the happily ever after. Not in movies. Not in real life.
Ben never made that moment about my body—but I did. I definitely did. And there’s this weird little place in my mind that won’t let go of it, like a dog with a bone. Just chewing over this insecurity until it’s gross and splintery and rank. Until it whispers things like how long do you really think this can last? How long until they really look at your body and decide not to want you anymore?
Maybe after what Lyle said yesterday, they’ll start to realize you’re not worth protecting. You’re not worth the effort. Why would you be? It’s not like there are men lining up to take their place. “Shut up,” I whisper back to the voice. “Shut up, shut up, shut up.” But it doesn’t shut up as I creep down the stairs in the near-dawn darkness. The voice keeps going. And the longer it talks, the more sense it starts to make.
When I went into town that day, I felt bold and sexy and fun, but looking at the picture now, it’s like every single element that makes Ireland Mills interesting or pretty or anything has been flattened into an image that screams trying too hard.
it doesn’t matter how smart I am, or how talented. When you’re fat, all of those qualities are erased. All that exists to represent you as a three-dimensional and nuanced human is your fatness, and your fatness is translated in a kind of visual shorthand for all sorts of moral failings. Laziness. Gluttony. Uncleanliness. An unholy lack of self-control and self-discipline. The very sight of you is almost like an affront; your existence is almost offensive.
body positivity doesn’t mean you flip a switch and walk around feeling great for the rest of your life. It’s not even really about feelings at all. Body positivity is about what you do. It’s about daring to live your life as you are—not fifty pounds from now, not six dress sizes from now. And there are going to be days when every bad feeling comes back for you again. When you feel all the messy, hopeless things you thought you were past feeling. Those are the days you do it anyway.”
what if this was the first time they noticed I was fat? What if they hadn’t really noticed before, but then after they learned how everyone else sees me, they would realize they didn’t really love me after all?”
why do we have to label normal desire as something twisted just because that desire isn’t for a thin body?
“You’re thinking right now that you don’t deserve it. That you don’t deserve to be chosen. And I’m not telling you to believe it or to feel like it.” I hear her stand up and walk over to me, putting a sisterly hand on my shoulder. “I’m only telling you to act like it,” she says. “Fake it ’til you make it, gorgeous. Act like you deserve to be loved, and I promise, everything else will work itself out.”
Hi, is what I should say. Sorry, is what I should say. “I love you,” is what comes out.
