A friend of mine sent this to me to post:
This is the year I finished my undergraduate thesis.
This is the year I managed to increase my love for my partner, when I thought I was love maxed out.
This is the year I am pursuing one of my long term goals, in a french city, in the summer.
This is also the year I gained 12 pounds. Which one do you think I mention the most?
I’m honestly not sure. I’ve been teeny tiny my whole life (which is a set of body issues all itself) which means short, tiny boobies, tiny butt. I just come to terms with those things and bam… little pixie is developing herself a gut gut. I make jokes about getting fat, and how I will work out soon, “Its not about the weight”, I tell myself “Its about my health”.
But its really about the gut gut. The most hated of the natural female forms. The victorians called it part of our “silken layer”; how lovely, a protective, smooth coat of arms that makes my body desireable, mysterious, sensuous. I am no longer a size XXS in my underpants. Super tight form-fitting dresses are not helping me out. Possibly making me look like I am in the early stages of pregnancy. I know I am not “fat”. But part of me lack that “teeny tinyness” that has become part of how I define myself, my difference from the rest of the world.
But my partner thinks I’m beautiful. He has a gut gut too. He is beginning to look at his sweet little man paunch with a worried eye. How can he help it, I grab and hate on mine every time I take my clothes off. He must assume I see his the same way. I don’t. I love the furry, taut little underbelly that warms my back when I sleep, provides a comfortable hand hold while watching movies, and an occasional “rasberry” landing pad when I am feeling silly.
I try to hard to have a “sweet little lady paunch” when I look down, but as my computer pushes against it- it becomes once more, the dreaded gut gut.
i would be perfect…except for...gut. my boyfriend put on some weight