I saw it happen to someone today and it reminded me of what I went through myself.
I remember struggling under the weight of a massage table and my various bags while some asshole chatted on his phone just outside the door. Once I was inside I paused to readjust my shoulder strap and watched as this summer’s eve opened the door for a thin woman who was carrying only a purse.
I began to notice it everywhere.
-Clothing stores that cut off sexy at a size 12
-Television shows where the hefty girls are comedic relief, the dateless best friend, the asexual sidekick, the compassionate caretaker.
-People thinking that I was strong or capable of physical labor they would not have asked someone half my size to even consider.
-Websites and comments that compare women of size to animals and furniture,
-Classified as pretty but never beautiful, photographed boobs up.
This idea by the general population that my weight makes me invisible as a person and non applicable as a woman.
My dress size does not dictate the diverseness my femininity!
My “Womyness” is something within,
It goes past my hips and thighs and as my trans sisters can attest to it is deeper than even my vagina.
It is not measured by the size of my breasts or their ratio to my stomach.
The honor of being a woman is something you are born with.
Not something that is earned.
Not a gift given to you.
So fuck you society. You don’t get to take this away from me.
You don’t get to take away the feeling of hands brushing up my legs, or silk curling around my sides.
You don’t get to take away the thrill of the tease or the batting of eyes.
I will not surrender to you and consider this shell to be a sin.
I will not pay a penance for my plumpness.
I defy you with every v-neck top
Every short skirt
Every lacey bra
Every ruby red kiss
Every dip of my hips
Every laugh of joy and cry of orgasmic release.
You don’t get to tell me who or what I am.
You don’t get to tell that woman… that beautiful beautiful woman who she is either.