Holy moly outpouring of love. I’d just like to thank everyone who reached out and commented on my last post, which was admittedly kind of intense. I wrote it rather quickly, and then I spent much more time editing, deleting, and almost scrapping the whole thing all together. I was so worried that, as hard as I tried to make it all-inclusive and accepting of any and all women, it would offend someone anyway. I was also worried no one would comment because they didn’t even want to touch the subject. And then I was even more worried I’d receive backlash from anonymous commenters.
Instead, what I got was a bunch of beautiful ladies supporting, thanking, and responding to me. And that is awesome. A lot of you could relate to the feelings I had about comments people make about one another’s bodies, and clearly, that applies to women AND men of all sizes. Others could see where I was coming from, but pointed out that the mean things people say about someone’s thinness are not quite the same as the things people say to those who are overweight. (For the record, I don’t disagree. Related: mean people suck.) One of you even admitted that you were likely guilty of the very thing I described and wrote such an open-minded, thoughtful response that I just wanted to hug you. Weeee, I’m gushing! By the way, I responded to each and every one of you in case you haven’t already seen so.
What I want to say with this follow-up post is, first of all, thank you. Also? I’ve realized maybe I’m a little uptight. Maybe we’re all a little uptight. To clarify, I stand by everything I said in that heated post (John called it a rant. He might be right… but don’t tell him I think so). But the aftermath has brought about a lot more thinking on the subject, and although I REALLY don’t want to write a Part-Deux post (uh, already am), I can see now that people who make comments to one another aren’t always motivated by anger, jealousy, or other negative chemical reactions. A perfect example of that was when I received a comment via Facebook from someone who’d once made a comment like what I described previously, but was also pretty harmless. She felt horrible, apologized, and explained where she was coming from, and I in turn felt incredibly guilty for making HER feel guilty. It was why I cringed a little bit when I hit the “publish” button on that post, because I was concerned that anyone who’d ever made comments about my weight would read it and think I had them in mind… along with Voodoo doll practices and whatnot, ’cause I’m scary like that.
So that interaction made me think. And your comments made me think. And I think thinking is good. And– to get all Dr. Seuss on ya– thinking a thought is better than not, and not is to think of no thoughts at all. Hot DAMN that felt good. But that’s enough now.
On a slightly different topic–though related ’cause apparently I enjoy baring my soul and stuff– I’d like to share something I found from Hanna:
A lot of bloggers are participating in this “Things I’m Afraid to Tell You” series, in which we all reveal something about ourselves that’s hard to share for fear of (gasp) coming off as imperfect. I don’t really have a problem with that, and it’s a good thing, or else I’d surely have cracked by now. But in this world where we represent ourselves to others through means of social media, there’s a huge tendency to share only the things about ourselves that are good, pretty, witty, and admirable. That’s rough. Because it’s easy to feel like shit when it seems like your Facebook friends or fellow bloggers never screw up, have an “ugly” day, or occasionally fart in public.
Though I can’t imagine anyone thinking so, I’d like to remind you that I am not in fact perfect. I do screw up from time to time, I do sometimes feel like I’m having an ugly day, and, well, who hasn’t farted in public? If my allergies are particularly bad, I snore. When I cry, I’m the opposite of cute. I cry fairly often, over stupid things, though usually in private. I’m worried I’ll be mediocre. I’m worried I’ll succeed and still not be satisfied. I’m scared at the thought of one day moving across the country away from family and the few close friends I have. Some days, I wish I had more friends. Most of the time, I’m plenty satisfied being anti-social. I’ve never experienced great, tragic loss (with the exception of my grandmother who died years before her time) and am therefore terrified of inevitably losing someone I love. I don’t fear my own death. My biggest obstacles are my fear of failure and the tendency to sit on my ass too long. I write this blog not only out of a need for a creative outlet, but because I want you to like me.
And I’m human. I embrace it all.