Page 53 of Misadventures of a Curvy Girl
And sometimes in Brian’s or my sister’s case, it was an excuse to be cruel, to point out if I just wanted it more, if I just tried harder, I could be thin like them. It was an excuse to tell me I was unhealthy, that I clearly didn’t love myself enough, to hint that my fatness actually meant I was a bad person. A weak or greedy person. A worse person.
But never, ever, ever has anyone just said “so?” Like instead of me declaring I was fat, I told her I love baseball or that I’ve never been to Idaho.
I blink.
“So what?” Mackenna repeats. “You’re fat. So am I. By the way, nice to meet you. Now what does having a fat body have to do with dumping Caleb and Ben?”
I feel like some kind of rug has been yanked out from under my feet. “I—” I don’t actually have words to follow that. I don’t have words at all. The only thing in my mind is a vague protest that she doesn’t really get it because she’s such a cute kind of fat girl, but maybe I’m wrong about that too. Maybe she gets it just as much as I do, because while I see her as having this magically-easier-than-mine body, the rest of the world may not. The rest of the world may see just another body that doesn’t fit.
Mackenna squints at me, tilting her head. The light catches again in her glossy, trendy hair, and a new kind of jealousy thrums through me. A softer kind of jealousy than being worried about her relationship with Caleb and Ben. I’m envious of her confidence. Of her utter and complete okayness with who she is. It makes her so fucking cool, so fucking magnetic.
She comes to a conclusion, apparently, bestowing a giant grin on me. “It’s that word, isn’t it? Fat?”
“Well, I don’t—”
“Do you think fat means bad?”
“I mean, I—”
Hand wave. “It’s just a word, princess. A word like tall or short or Nebraskan. It’s an adjective that doesn’t have to mean anything negative. The world thinks that fat is the worst thing a woman can be, but the more we use the word like a neutral description, the more we say fuck you to that idea.”
“But,” I say, “it’s one thing to say it about yourself, you know, to use it as a hashtag and make it your choice. But other people don’t use it like that.”
“Aha,” Mackenna says triumphantly and stabs a finger up into the air. “I knew it was about that article!”
I flush.
“Let me guess… You read the comments?”
“Yes,” I mumble. “I know. It was stupid to.”
She gives me a rueful kind of smile. “It’s okay to forget to expect the worst sometimes.”
I let out a long breath, staring past her and out the window. “I felt so idiotic after I did. Because I’ve spent this year trying to be someone more like you. Confident and happy in my body, like all the body-positive people I see online. And I thought I’d done it! I thought I was over ever feeling bad about my body again—but all it took was one freaking picture.”
“And a hell of a comments section,” Mackenna adds.
Sigh. “And that.”
“Look, princess, body positivity doesn’t mean you flip a switch and walk around feeling great for the rest of your life. It’s not even really about feelings at all. Body positivity is about what you do. It’s about daring to live your life as you are—not fifty pounds from now, not six dress sizes from now. And there are going to be days when every bad feeling comes back for you again. When you feel all the messy, hopeless things you thought you were past feeling. Those are the days you do it anyway.”
“Do what?” I ask, my voice bleak. “What is there to do?”
Mackenna practically erupts. “Everything! There is everything to do! You post pictures of yourself, or you dress the way you want, or you push back against a flight attendant who’s treating you like trash. You unapologetically pursue your photography career, and you date the people you love, even if other people don’t like it. Not because it makes you feel good but because it helps change the world. Do you see? Even just living your life is a radical act. That is body positivity. That is what matters, not an emotion that can change at the drop of a hat.”
I understand what she’s saying, although I don’t know if I like it. It feels hard. It feels unfair.
It feels unfair because it is unfair, I remind myself. It shouldn’t be this way.
It should change.
Maybe I can be someone who changes it. Who fights against the unfair parts, because what’s the other option? To live like I did before? To be and die alone?
I press my fingertips against my eyelids, careful not to mess up my makeup but also wanting to keep the tears inside. “But what about Caleb and Ben? Those trolls and my ex were coming after the tavern online, and I couldn’t—” I break off, really about to cry now. “I couldn’t bear the thought of Caleb and Ben paying any price to love me.”
“And?” Mackenna says.
She says it so matter-of-factly, as if there’s definitely something else I need to say, that I don’t even question it.
