The Skinny On Being Skinny
By Marissa Heffley, Jayplay writer
Illustration: Scott Drummond
"Your friend needs to eat a cheeseburger," the random girl at the bar slurred to my roommate as she tried to focus her eyes on me. My roommate, equally intoxicated, bent over laughing. I felt my face burn and counted down the minutes before last call. I knew I would be spending the rest of the night imagining that every person in the bar was thinking I was too skinny.
If real women have curves, I'm as fake as they come. Being 5 foot-7 and 110 isn't the blissful life some girls might assume. My weight attracts a lot of negative attention. No one ever would go up to an overweight person and tell them they need to lose weight. But people never waste time telling me how they find my weight completely unnatural. I'm described as "the skinny girl." My roommate's boyfriend insists that I'm either anorexic or bulimic. My friends confess that before they witnessed my eating habits, they too wondered if I had an eating disorder. Apparently someone my size can't possibly be healthy.
I do not have an eating disorder, but inherited my small frame from my parents. My mom and dad were both 120 pounds when they graduated from The University of Kansas. Last Christmas my parents framed one of my favorite pictures of our family from the late 60's. My uncles are tall and thin. My aunt, though only about 8, looks underfed. My parents look way too scrawny. Even my grandparents could have afforded to gain a few pounds.
My family may be blessed with high metabolism, but it is cursed with high cholesterol. I grew up in a virtually fat-free household. Once I got off my parent's cholesterol battling diet and came to college, I binged on ghastly amounts of unhealthy foods. My intention was to gain 10 pounds. The first time I tried my new "diet" I actually lost weight. The second time my cholesterol elevated to above normal levels. Defeated, I went back to the healthier foods with which I'd been raised.
But last Christmas I decided to try and save money for presents by eating cheap fatty food. I wiggled into my favorite pair of
jeans and found I could no longer button them. For the first time since I outgrew children sizes, I didn't wear a size 0. My immediate response was panic, followed by disbelief.
I suddenly began to hear a little voice in my head telling me to lose weight
Of course I was still skinny, but I suddenly began to hear a little voice in my head telling me to lose weight. It took several days to confess my growing pooch of a stomach to my roommate. She laughed and rolled her eyes, a completely reasonable response. How could I complain? I finally had gained the weight I'd always wanted.
I imagined my life without people telling me I'm too skinny. Was the criticism that bad? Sure, I felt boyish and gangly at times, but I'd grown accustomed to it. Not being able to button my pants was strange.
Obsessing about my weight made me notice more how much my girl friends
and roommates made disparaging comments about their own bodies. Whether one of my roommates was complaining about her chubby cheeks or a growing waistline, weight dominated our everyday conversations and thoughts.
If I gain weight, I'm going to worry about becoming too big. If I don't, I'll worry about becoming too skinny. It's a lose-lose situation that I've grown sick of. No one should waste their life worrying about something that's impossible to attain. Of course it will be hard to ignore our body image obsessed culture, but it will be easier than letting weight take over my life.
— Heffley can be reached at maheffley@kansan.com.
4.08.04 Jayplay
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