The Female Body

No, I don’t hate my body. I love all of my 125 lbs set on a 5′6″ frame. I love my quirks, the old injuries and scar tissue. I love how my old eight-pack is now a slightly pudgy pouch I can’t quite seem to get rid of. I love my stretch marks. And I love my greying hair and all those freckles.

However, I hate that I’m an object to men. I didn’t ask for an hourglass figure. I never wanted to go from a 30A bra to a 30DD in less than a year. I don’t wear my blouses partially unbuttoned for you, I wear them like that because my hips and bust don’t quite fit into anything.

Stop calling us “hot”, or “fine”, or whistling. Call us “beautiful”, “sexy”, or “gorgeous”.

Stop comparing us to models and ladies on television and movies. They have the benefit of personal trainers, surgery, make-up artists, and airbrushing. We have a few minutes in the morning to get ready and fix our hair, and then an internal battle all day to determine whether or not we’re up for a trip to the gym.

So when we’re upset that we’re too fat or too short or too tall or when we have a bad hair day, remember what we’re up against.