Things I ‘know’ are ‘fact’ from magazines and television:
- You must be size ten or smaller.
- The exception to this: if you are obese, then you can brag about having gotten down to a size 16.
- Otherwise, you’re a terrible fat cow at size 16.
- The ‘ideal’ weight is 9 stone 6, or 132 pounds.
This stuff has been in my head a lot this week for various reasons. Firstly, my mother-in-law buys a lot of the fad-n-diet mags, and I’ll sometimes leaf through to chortle at whatever bullcrap it’s peddling as gospel that week or month. I don’t know that she follows any of it; she’s just at that age where one habitually and regularly buys magazines anyways. The second is because of our new princess, Catherine. I admired her for being a healthy girl, though I despaired when she announced she was going to lose weight for her wedding… what weight? And if you’ve seen her on the ongoing tour of Canada, she’s downright sickly-looking now; that’s not setting a very good example, girly. NOBODY should aim to look like a Bratz doll, and yet? There you go. I hope someone that loves her takes a moment to tell her that she’s doing herself a damage and to eat something, rather than yes-manning her with assurances that she’s still ravishing, stunning.
Which feeds into a pet peeve of mine – why is it standard and accepted practice that one should lose weight for their wedding? A family member who is otherwise sensible told me that she wanted to be beautiful; honey, you’re gorgeous as-is. I can understand wanting to lose weight for your own health, but for a single day? That’s just, to me, starting off the rest of your life on a lie, and a promise to hate yourself forever after. After all, your fiancé loved you when you were ‘fat’, so… just not following the logic behind it. If anything, I put on weight for my wedding; I wasn’t needing of it, but I wasn’t going to fret over a need to fit into a very narrow norm.
Speaking of that narrow norm, are you aware that it’s only about 5 inches? Apparently, that’s the only place that beauty can exist, and grudgingly that high at that. It’s something to think about, at least, because it is just so laughable. And yet, even the sanest of us feel some pressure to conform to these norms, and I fret and cluck ’cause I want to shake heads into loving themselves whatever shape. And I’m glad I’m not the only one – Hanne Black wrote a GREAT piece last month, and a thank you to Heatherbat for posting it where I could see it. Read it, ingest it… love it.
And remember the secret to real beauty – love yourself for you, yo. If you don’t, nobody else is going to.