I am going to be honest- I really did not want to write about the 130 pound sundress scandal. I didn’t. Even thinking about writing about it twisted me into knots. There is so much about this viral “story” that disgusts me and then there are all the bits that poke at the insecure parts of me.
I donated all of my running shorts the other day. Every. Single. Pair. I just couldn’t run in shorts anymore. There wasn’t some majorly dramatic sentiment there, so much as I didn’t feel comfortable in them any longer and I found myself thinking more about my running attire and less about all the things I enjoy when I run, like the sun and the fresh air and the trees and the flowers.
I had this moment where I contemplated whether I didn’t feel secure because of my own shit or if there was some thought of the outside perspective. In truth, I’m not sure I can differentiate between the two. I think it’s one big mashed up mess.
I was brought up in a home filled with body positivity and love and still, I grew up in an environment, in a world, that effortlessly creates dysfunctional relationships with food and our bodies. Totally. Toxic. And for all the ways in which we have evolved and grown; we have also found new ways to be depraved. ‘What I eat in a day’ videos and Ozempic addictions and head to toe shapewear and all the detox smoothies your heart can stand.
And so, when some dude goes on the Internet and claims that women over 130 pounds shouldn’t be wearing sundresses, I would love to be surprised, but I’m not. Rather, that story seems to fit right into our existing narrative. Our obsession. Our hyperfocus. Our judgment. Our bullshit.
We are a society that celebrates individualism and comfort in one’s own skin, but also, condemns cellulite and thick thighs and jiggly arms.
We can’t support a grind, a machine that imprisons us in our own minds and then also rage on social media when some asshole says that thing that is essentially the mantra of the machine. I mean, we can, but where is the sense there? How does that work?
Does it make me happy that a bunch of gorgeous, natural humans are taking to social media in sundresses and telling that guy to go fuck himself? It sure does. Do I think that this revolution is somehow going to change something? I don’t know. I don’t think so, but I don’t really know. The most real part of me thinks that we need to do more. Think bigger.
Maybe it starts with being honest. Maybe it starts by admitting the things that we don’t like about ourselves and why. Maybe it starts by whispering those deep secrets to those we can trust and asking them to hold those words close to them and then, look at us and be honest, always. Or maybe, just be quiet. Quiet is okay too.
Actually, that may be the perfect point. Perhaps everyone needs to stop offering their unsolicited opinion on everything, always. Did we really need some dude to offer his opinion on the weight of women who should be wearing certain clothing items? Did we? Do we need random strangers to offer their deeply personal and often offensive thoughts on the Internet or social media in response to someone’s expression of a thing?
I’ve spoken about this before- this concept that if we don’t have anything nice to say, we can just keep our thoughts to ourselves. I wrote about a social media influencer who had a breast augmentation and all the folks who saw fit to debate her decision. That was a while ago and nothing has changed. Why would it? People feel emboldened by the anonymity that online commenting affords them. Or at least they think they are anonymous. Some are brazen enough to use their own personal accounts and then, there are the special breed of troll who create accounts for the sole purpose of tormenting people they don’t really know and likely, never will.
I want to tell you that this surprises me, but based on what I know of humans, there is not one single cell in my body that lights up with shock. Dismay? Yes. Absolutely. But am I taken aback by the depravity of humans? Nah. I’m not. I’ve found the loudest humans to be the most disappointing. I don’t believe these folks to be the majority, but it sure feels that way when you doom scroll, doesn’t it?
I didn’t even look at the comments under that horrific human’s post when I heard about his ridiculous comment, because I was afraid that for every one person who is telling him what an awful cretin he is, there are ten more with their own fat-shaming, body-dysmorphic driven narrative.
I feel sad for people like that. I mean, yeah, some of them may not seem like they are deserving of compassion, but really, imagine the self-loathing, the festering hate that must exist within you to feel that way and more pointedly, to express it publicly?
I want things to shift so badly. I want us to get to a place where we, as a society, can just move along if we see something we don’t like, without feeling compelled to share our opinion (particularly when it’s hateful and monstrous). And we know that I am not suggesting we should all agree with each other, right? I am perfectly comfortable with the notion that we come from different places and share varying views. I am.
I just don’t know why we have to weaponize those differences of opinion. I’m unclear as to why those words are vitriolic and judgmental.
They are, no matter what you think.
When you tell the general public that you believe women over a certain body weight shouldn’t wear an item of clothing-you are trying to elicit shame.
Cool. Shame on you posting man. Shame on your followers and supporters. Expressing deep compassion for those who felt slighted or seen in a way that’s humiliating and humbling for all the wrong reasons.
x
L.
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