The most common, most annoying phrase that every overweight woman hears is, “you have a pretty face.”
There is a strange phenomenon that occurs whenever someone says the phrase, “pretty face.” Although science has never actually been able to prove this occurrence, many have reported a change in the somewhere between the cerebellum going directly to the limbic system that actually turns the phrase being spoken (i.e. “pretty face”) into the not as flattering phrase, “fat ass.” Although there have been thousands of reports of this phenomena, the phrase is continually used, mainly to the overweight (and predominately female) population as some sort of complement. As if complementing the thinnest part on that person is not enough of a hint.
I’ve always had a “pretty face.” I remember my first diet in the fifth grade. I wanted to change as much as I could before middle school so that I could be like one of the mean girls. I wanted to rule the school, but that never seemed to happen. As I grew older I began to own my nerdy-ness, focusing on activities like theatre, show choir, and debate team. By the end of high school I would say I was the most popular weird-o in the school.
Being a weird-o never paid off in the romantic areas of life. I was invited to parties on the weekends and all, but I went to prom both years with guy friends. I remember watching the romantic couples dancing and thinking that, if I were thin that could have been me. I hated myself. I would go through cycles of over eating and starvation, and all the while, just gaining more weight.
I remember the first time a guy called me beautiful. I was a freshman in college. It seems like all my life I wanted this attention from guys and it all came in a flood during my college experience. I wish I could say all the of my suitors had pure intentions, but they didn’t. But for the first time people looked at the total package and liked it. That’s when I got my eating in line. When I realized that beauty wasn’t a number on a scale. It was in me. It was confidence. It was an attitude. It was knowing who you are and forgetting what society had to say.
And I am beautiful. And I wear a size 16. So screw you, American Standards of Beauty. You’re not real anyway.
