Our bodies – our prisons.  Our cages.  Perhaps, for some, a haven, sanctuary, loved and cared for.  But for most of us, our bodies just aren’t enough.  Hips are too wide.  Eyes are a boring shade of brown.  Feet are too big.  Too short.  Too tall.  Fat.

You know, we often hear people chastise those who swear by telling them not to use ‘four-letter words’; maybe we ought to be condemning the three-letter ones as well.  There is no more damning, more hurtful curse, that applies to any race, gender identity, or other social group, than ‘fat’. It destroys self-esteem.  It demands we change, that we not accept ourselves.  It implies a lack of willpower, a lack of the simple decency to not take more than our fair share.  It suggests a character flaw, an inherent defect.  It drives deadly eating disorders, gets us chastised by our own doctors (as if it is all some choice we’ve made, some masochistic fun time plan to be tormented and suffer health problems), and forces a segregation of those not so perfect from the ‘desirable’ stores into specialty stores catering to the fatties.

“If I was beautiful like you
Oh the things I would do
Those not so blessed would be crying out murder
And I’d just laugh and get away with it too
Like you do…“

We say it to the mirror when we’re overweight, average weight or underweight.  We say it even if it’s not true.  The word itself is a mental time bomb.  It is how society teaches us to think.  It’s the religion of the Diet Coke generation.  Because being fat, or overweight, is not only a condemnation on health or a marker of physical size – it is a label that says, “You are not beautiful.”

“If I was beautiful like you
I would never be at fault
I’d walk in the rain between the rain drops
Bringing traffic to a halt…”

Weight and beauty are mutually exclusive, if we look deeper and ignore the droning of the machine.  But that little three-letter word says I am wrong.  Media ads, TV shows, models are all primped and worked out to near death, to insist I am wrong as they receive their praise and accolades.  They become ‘thinspiration’.  They are who we want to be.

“If I was beautiful like you
I’d have so many friends
All fighting for my time to be next in line
So if I hurt one, I wouldn’t have to make amends…”

The hardest truth to swallow is that it’s all bullshit.  We don’t have to be beautiful like them.  We don’t have to be the cookie cutter clones of buff men and slender women.  But it’s all easier said than believed.  It’s a faery tale, isn’t it?  Fiction?

“But that would never be
That will never, never be
Cause I’m not beautiful like you
I’m beautiful like me...”

Beautiful – Joydrop