Standing in my kitchen, my thick thighs gently brushing together beneath my flowing skirt, I’m diligently working the pre-made pizza dough that came in a plastic bag from one of those “Cook at Home” meal services. You know the type—enticing at first with a free week but ultimately costly when you forget to cancel your subscription (which, let’s be honest, is too pricey).
The meals I’ve ordered from this service are marketed as “healthy” and “vegetarian,” two terms that are not interchangeable. As a vegetarian who aspires to be health-conscious, I find it challenging to reconcile the two. I want to be fit. I genuinely try. While I limit my meat intake, I indulge in cheese, Brussels sprouts, and spinach. I scrutinize ingredient labels and put back any bread with “enriched” as the first ingredient.
Every morning, I whip up a green smoothie—whirring my blender, adding chia seeds and flax. I relish the taste and texture, envisioning those antioxidants zipping through my veins like superheroes.
And yes, desserts are my weakness too. You can gauge my passion for sweets by how my thighs meet. My fondness for creamy brie might be evident in the gentle jiggle of my upper arms, still waving long after I’ve said hello. If you’re the type to judge based on appearances, you might focus solely on what you see.
But do you notice the spinach I eat? The smoothie I blend? Can you recognize my love for flax seeds in the strength of my back? Are you looking at my bright eyes and thick hair, a braid trailing down my back? Can you see the sturdy bones beneath my skin, or the healthy pink half-moons of my nails?
It’s not just about appearance. I worry about your health, despite how it may seem. Can you truly assess a woman’s health by the curves of her hips? Does being a size 12, 14, or 16 dictate the length of my life? It’s disheartening that some will judge my health based on the number on my bathing suit tag rather than the results from my doctor’s lab. It’s as if modern beauty standards overshadow actual health.
If you’re one to judge solely by looks, then you’re not my kind of person. My concern is for your well-being; it’s not about superficial appearances. But I can’t deny that the way you look at me, whether I’m in a dress singing karaoke or lounging in my beautiful emerald swimsuit at the beach, affects me deeply.
What you don’t see when you look at me is my strength. I can teach an 8-year-old to ride a bike in one afternoon and carry in six grocery bags in one trip. My brain, fueled by flax seeds and the occasional chocolate croissant, crafts essays about love, kindness, and even the complexities of life.
Sometimes, yes, my thighs rub together while kneading pizza dough. Sometimes, I’m the only one strong enough to open a jar of pickles. Once, I even moved a bed up two flights of stairs by myself. Yet, these qualities don’t show in the flesh above my knees; therefore, they seem to go unnoticed.
But here’s what matters: A girl at the beach once whispered, “I love that fat girl’s bathing suit!” as I strolled by. I swam out far enough to drown out her voice and then returned. I am that fat girl in the green bathing suit—emerald against my pale skin, reminiscent of a mermaid’s fin.
“They only make this suit for plus-size women,” I told her softly as I walked back to my spot in the sand. Her face flushed, but I smiled kindly. Perhaps she didn’t realize I could hear her or that her comment wasn’t meant to hurt. I smiled at her.
Sometimes, the beauty of my words, the style in which I carry myself, and the growing strength of my character hold far more significance than the size of my hips. If only someone would take notice of that.
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In summary, it’s crucial to look beyond physical appearances and appreciate the strength, intelligence, and spirit within each individual. True health and beauty encompass far more than what the eye can see.