I want to be huge
Reflections on a period of unintentional weight loss
I recently lost weight unintentionally. The response has been overwhelming. People saying I look great, asking me how I did it.
I answer honestly and say depression and anxiety. Overwork, heartbreak.
They nod and smile, calculating how little food they can eat and for how long. Thinking they’ll start tomorrow.
Our culture says you can have this too in exchange for your voice, your mind.
It’s worth it. Worth the weakness, the brain fog, the far away feeling.
That far away feeling is the point. Wouldn’t want to be too loud, take up too much space.
Yes, shrink.
Keep trying.
No, not like that.
Not enough to stop your heart. Not enough to bother anyone.
Just enough to slowly disappear, with a hard porcelain grin on your face.
Keep trying forever, until you’re gone.
Yes, we love small women.
As the feedback got louder, my inner voice fell away and was replaced by a hall of mirrors.
Am I pleasing you? Does it look good? Do you like it? Am I okay?
All the fuck-you strength that has led me to define myself and my life, gone. Replaced with sorry sorry sorry and please please please.
We love small women because they are good wives, good consumers, good for business. Bad for anything important, bad for themselves.
This time around I understood what it actually means to be good for you and not for me.
So I smashed all the mirrors and turned the scattered shards into a disco ball. Thinking as I glued each vacant piece together
I don’t want to be good ever again
I want to be huge.