I’ve gained a healthy 20 pounds since moving to Boston 7 months ago, putting me at around 120 pounds. It’s the most I’ve ever weighed, though I know I’m still very thin. And generally, I like the weight on myself. I feel like I look better and healthier and fuller. And I tend to prefer other women with weight on them, too. More weight than I carry myself. I like women that society generally considers “chubby” or even “fat.” I like women with curves and rolls.
But I’m still having trouble adjusting to my new body. I bought a dress in a size 5 the other day; the largest sized item of clothing that I’ve ever purchased. Part of me cringed at the fact that I had gone up to a larger size than I’ve ever been. My boobs are now between a D and a DD, making most clothing items difficult for me to fit into. I’m sizing up to a medium in most things, as opposed to the small or extra-small I’m used to wearing.
And logically, I know I look good. I know I look better. I know there’s nothing wrong with how I look. Logically, I know the only reason I even cringe at gaining weight is due to ridiculous patriarchal standards of beauty that are unrealistic and damaging to women. And yet, I can’t help being affected by them, even though I pretend I’m not.
I know that I look great, and I definitely feel great. Now, it’s about actually believing that I look great the way I am, whether I’m 100 pounds, 120 pounds, or 200+ pounds. It shouldn’t matter, and I hate that it does.