Size matters
The following is something I wrote as the “entrance” essay for college applications. While parts are particularly made to entice the readers in to thinking “Hey, this chick deserves to go to this college!” a lot of it still holds true:
Being A Plus-sized Woman in a Half-sized World
Fat. Walking down the halls of any school one is more like to hear the word fat and the many synonyms for it than any other explicative. While “nigger”, “chink”, and “beaner” have become social faux-pas in America’s politically correct world, obesity has become the last acceptable prejudice. Obesity is the dread affliction in our society, and in some ways, it is more acceptable to be alcoholic or anorexic then obese. I am one of those “unfortunates” to be cursed with a bodacious body and it has been a long struggle to see that there is no tangible flaw with my body. My particular mindset had been what was holding me back.
Being “overweight” is like the proverbial white elephant. The overweight factor hangs over one’s head when one goes out to eat, weighing what is acceptable to be seen eating and what is desired. It’s glaringly obvious at the beach or swimming pool. It sits at the back of the mind when shopping, gazing at those beautiful things that could never ever be worn, not because they don’t flatter or they are too expansive but simply because they don’t come in your size. Because of this, I had no sense of accomplishment, no confidence in myself, and it was years until I learned that there was something critically wrong with myself, not my body. The turning point was freshmen year of high school. I went on a vacation at the beach with my family. It was hot outside and nearly everyone was dressed in summer clothes. Near me were two little girls around the age of ten, eating ice cream and giggling with each other. One of the little girls was a cute chubby thing, reminding me of myself at a young age. An old woman walked up to the little girls with a kind smile and said to the chubby one quite clearly, “You really don’t need that ice cream dear.” obviously believing she was doing the girl a favor. As I watched the light die in the little girl’s eyes something just snapped inside me. I charged up to the old woman, barely aware of what I was yelling. All I could think of was that this little girl’s whole perception of her body and herself had been horribly altered by the remarks of a single stranger. As I hollered at the old woman I realized that I saw myself in the little girl. But instead of letting other’s expectation’s imprison me, I finally got the message that I had been slowly groping towards all my life. I saw that the one that forced all the pain, self-doubt and self-loathing was not the old lady or society, they were only the means. It was myself that took all the negativity, turned it inside, and accepted it as fact. It is only myself who can truly tell what perfection is and what it isn’t.
But what does this epiphany mean for my future? Do I live happily ever after, with all the extra curves thrown in? No, but I do know that I will face any challenge with far more strength in myself, and though it will be a long hard road towards eventual self-acceptance, I have made tentative peace with my body. Society and other people’s prejudice will no longer hold me back from achieving the goals I set for myself. I have a far greater sense of self, a higher level of confidence that will pave the way towards being a success in college. With this new found confidence in myself, I leave high school. And as I embark on the path toward college, toward the mysterious realm of adulthood, I do it with the knowledge that I am strong, capable, and beautiful, just as I am.
Re-reading it, in my third year at school, its rather an eye opener. I haven’t really changed. I’m still fighting on a day to day basis the little voices in my head that clamor I am just not good enough. I think the difference is, I’ve simply grown thicker skin.
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