Toward the end of my final year of high school, I was accosted by a friend in such an unexpected way that it has stuck with me to this day. When she noticed me by my locker, she shouted, “Oh my God, Sarah. I want to be skinny like you.” I was flattered, but my thank you was cut short. Another girl within earshot loudly proclaimed with a face full of disgust, “You don’t want to be that skinny, that’s too skinny. It’s just gross.” Never had a few words cut into me so deeply, but the most concerning aspect of the situation unfolding around me was how none of those listening even flinched. Suddenly I was no longer a person with feelings. To them, I was nothing but skin and bones. Sure, some people simply have no tact, but how can comments so blatantly offensive be so overlooked by others?
These incidents took a toll on my self-confidence. I not only saw my figure as feeble and weak, but I also began to act like it, as if their words were physically breaking me down. In fact, my friends would jokingly call me “the frail one,” and later, “Holy Frail” after Jay Z’s “Holy Grail.” While this was funny at times, sometimes these snide remarks got out of hand. I slouched when I walked, and allowed my weight to define me. I would stuff myself late at night with as many carbs and fatty foods that I could get my hands on. This struggle to put on weight was futile because my fast metabolism always prevailed.
Eventually, I realized that fitting into a perfect mold was not worth the health problems it would cause. Though I could not control my metabolism or genes, I could still strive to eat right and exercise. When I finally expressed some interest in leading an active lifestyle, others made it a point to shame me for harboring those ridiculous thoughts. “Why would you want to work out—you’re already a skeleton. You want to be even skinnier?” People assumed I was overly obsessed with my figure, when frankly, all I wanted to do was walk up a flight of stairs without panting. It seemed that for those who are already thin, making efforts to be healthy had become a crime. The judgment ensued and I lost my right to decide how I wanted to take care of my body. I could not beat them.
I wanted to gain some perspective and really get to the bottom of why people think it is okay to shame skinny people. How is it that the damaging effects of thin-shaming can be lost on even the most kind-hearted people? The sayings “real women have curves” and “only dogs want bones” so clearly discriminate against skinny people.
Something I didn’t consider, however, is a concept known as “thin privilege.” Society predominantly stereotypes people who are not skinny as lazy, unattractive, incapable, and undesirable, while the thin woman has been idealized by pop culture. These mantras are a rebellion against a society that glorifies skinniness: a way for people to say, “I love my body, too!” Although it may be empowering for some, it also inherently contributes to thin-shaming.
Degrading others in order to empower yourself is absolutely inexcusable. Thin-shaming is hurtful regardless of intent and should not be condoned in any form. In the grand scheme of things, all everyone really wants is to feel accepted. Media encourages us to pursue unreachable goals. You will always be too skinny or too curvy according to society. You will never achieve perfection, so why should we make it so hard on one another to love our bodies just the way they are? We would all be better off if we stopped playing into the media’s game of keeping everyone insecure.
The value of an individual should not be determined by the amount of fat on his or her body. Odds are, if you ever think that someone should lose or gain weight, that person most probably already feels the same way and has tried. You are not some saving grace who is kindly offering a wake up call to someone who is struggling. All you are doing is pointing out the obvious, needlessly lowering someone’s self-esteem, and tainting your relationship with that person. If you do feel that your friend should seek medical attention, express your concern with discretion, instead of publicly shaming that friend. Otherwise, I’m afraid that it’s really just shame on you.
