More or Less…

Last night I caught the last 15 minutes of “More to Love“, the new Fox reality show where “plus sized” women are paraded in front of a husky man in an effort to win his affections. Part of me wishes I had seen the whole episode so I could critique it from a fair and fully informed place, but I think I saw enough to fairly voice my opinion.

The reason I was late tuning is because I was at the gym…per usual. During the past three months, once my migraine meds evened out, I have gained about 7 pounds I cannot seem to shake. This weight gain has sent me in to a tailspin. I work out like hell, eat super strictly when I have the will power, and spend far too much time thinking about 112 ounces that have managed to find themselves back on my ass.

The thing is, I am not perfect. I go on dates with cute boys and want to drink beer and eat dessert. I meet my girlfriends for brunch, weary and hungover, and slam mimosas and burgers. I want to live my life and not spend so much time obsessing and assessing my self worth on the size of my pants or the number on the scale. The perfect kiss at the end of the night or hysterical laughter with my best friends is something I would not trade for the world. I want joy in my life, and for me, joy is a good meal with good people.

I am a confident person in so many ways; I know I am smart, capable and loved. I have made a nice little life for myself filled with a family of friends and far too much fun. But, I am often ashamed by how much time I spend thinking about my size. I am better than this; I am a grown woman who should be past such crippling fits of self doubt. Truth of the matter is that it has gotten better. There was a time in my life, when I weighed over 200 pounds, where it was an all consuming obsession. Yet, all it takes is seven pounds to send me back to that dark place of self flagellation. Criticizing my appearance has become such a habit that it is a comfort; it is a place I instinctively go when I feel out of control because it is a emotion I know so well.

This is why seeing the end of “More to Love” pained me so deeply. These women, all crying, shaking cauldrons of emotion, have been placed in front of us as sport. Sure, they chose to sign up for the show, but when the world is telling you that you are fat, that you are not in the same league or worthy of the same attention as other women, what is one to do? The world has told these women that they are not equal to their peers, that their weight defines them. Their confidence is shot to hell and then this show comes knocking; it is no wonder they accepted this offer. Sadly, they have accepted the fate that society has laid upon their feet. It is hard for me to have a good time when these women are boiled down to their measurements for my entertainment. This isn’t the way it is, or has to be. These women do not need to accept being paraded around in front of the viewing public being told they are in a whole separate category from “normal” “regular” women.

I can sit here and say “Ladies, we need to love ourselves!” We should, I know we should. It is a battle I fight every day. I yell at friends who call themselves fat and pick themselves apart, but I am guilty of the same crimes. It is hard living in a world where movies and magazines constantly barrage you with images of stick thin, genetically blessed women whose job it is to look perfect. I am sure I would look amazing if I had a personal trainer, hours of free time a day, and a nutritionist. I don’t have those things, nor so I know if I would truly want them if they were within my reach.

What I want is some peace of mine, a little more kindness towards myself and for my female friends to stop tearing their bodies apart. I want men, as francoBeans stated so eloquently stated this week, to be exposed to balanced images of women and learn to not fear a little extra weight. I really just want to live in a world where all us women are valued because we are some badass bitches who will throw down beers and have a good time instead of ordering the fucking salad with dinner because we are scared of what some guy will think.  Sure, we should still exercise and try our best to eat healthfully, but a life filled with endless hours at the gym and only salads doesn’t seem worth living to me.

We all have more to love about us and it definitely has nothing to do with the size of our jeans…I just wish we could all see that.