This is another piece from Bethany. The woman can’t seem to stop writing fantastic stuff. She called this her “rant.” Ranting is sometimes the best:
Fat can be powerful.
If wielded just so, fat can send a message. Plus size women have access to and permission to use a whole set of powerful words in reference to themselves. There are specialty stores. There are magazines. There are groups of people fighting for and celebrating the thicker, curvier woman.
And of course we all know how powerful skinny can be. Skinny dominates our media. Skinny is the key to eternal happiness. Skinny women are admired and applauded, envied for their perceived self discipline and focus. Studies have been conducted that indicate that a large percentage of women would trade actual years of life in exchange for guaranteed thinness.
So, we have skinny and fat. We have big, bold, powerful fat and strong, determined, wanton skinny. We have Queen Latifah in one corner and Kate Moss in the opposing. Both look stunning, of course.
So where does that leave me?
No one ever talks about being average. I don’t know of any Average Advocacy groups. Being a size eight? Who cares? Blah, boring, whatever. What is there to say about a size eight? The only thing that I can think of is that it falls neatly between six and ten.
Even the word “average” sounds plain. When I hear the word “average”, I hear a lot of other words behind it: unremarkable, without distinction, standard, ordinary. It makes me think of the color beige, a big bowl of naked oatmeal, a glass of tap water. I’m neither fat or skinny, curvaceous or waiflike. Too big for Wet Seal and too small for Lane Bryant. I guess that puts me at JC Penney’s.