I saw this play last week about a fat teenage girl. She was sullen. She reeked of defeatism. I wanted to slap her. The play’s premise was about how her world was falling apart. Her parents were splitting. She was getting bullied at school. She was eating to comfort herself. The play tried to evoke pity for her. I wanted to slap her. With great restraint, I didn’t march on stage, knock the chips out of her hands and scream ‘Fight for your happiness. Nobody is going to give it to you.’
I’ve battled weight all my life. And I spent too much time feeling bad about myself. No one would ever describe me as sullen… that’s just not in my genetic disposition. I did have phases of shame, resentment and anger throughout my life. I felt betrayed by my body. I thought I was weak and ugly. I hated beautiful women. A pretty, blonde petite could be the biggest bitch in the world and the guy…guys still picked her over me. I blamed her, all of hers over the many decades. I was jealous and raging. And I never really faulted the man…men.
The book club is reading the 1920s Anita Loos’ book, “Gentlemen Prefer Blondes.” In the past, I had seen the Marilyn Monroe and Jane Russell movie. I’m actually watching it again on Netflex. I didn’t realize the depth of the satire targeting men’s weakness for a pretty girl and controlling sexual impulses. The book/show hits the irony of a woman cleverly using whatever is in her arsenal to strategically place herself in a better situation. Whether she is trying to break the glass ceiling or wear the glass slipper, no woman has it easy in this men’s world even in 2014.
In her iconic song, Marilyn sings about diamonds being a girl’s best friend. I listened more closely to the lyrics this time…
Time rolls on,
And youth is gone,
And you can’t straighten up when you bend.
But stiff back
Or stiff knees,
You stand straight at Tiffany’s.
I guess when I was a teenager, I didn’t realize even pretty girls get old. They thicken. They sag. They wrinkle…sometimes around their botox. And they often get discarded for the new, hotter model. Yet, diamonds…
Men grow cold
As girls grow old,
And we all lose our charms in the end.
But square-cut or pear-shaped,
These rocks don’t lose their shape.
Diamonds are a girl’s best friend.
It’s only in less than the last decade that I’ve come to appreciate my body for the efficient and hearty vessel it is. Aside from a freaky muscle spasm and the occasional rigidity, it functions at an optimal level. I’m no longer that shamed teenager that personalizes society’s harsh critique of weight. I try not to flinch when a play or reality has a person wailing about being fat. I still internally react when a size 8 stuffs cake in her mouth while exclaiming how fat she is. I just practice recognizing the bad thought, taking a cleansing breath and exhaling the toxicity. Five decades of shame is hard to overcome but on the other hand why continue to fester the negativity.
So, I stopped resenting pretty, blonde petites. They have their own hardships to battle. My epiphany moment is their window of opportunity seems much shorter than mine.
“No one can make you feel inferior without your consent,” Eleanor Roosevelt