A group of strangers called me fat last night.
I should mention that I’m not a skinny girl, but I would also like to point out that I am not fat. I think most people would call me “curvy” since I am quite voluptuous. Yes, I have giant boobs and though I’m no Kardashian, I do have a booty situation that I’m quite happy with. It just bothers me… NO, actually it upsets me, hurts me and drives me crazy that girls like me get called fat when 50 years ago, we were the ideal. I will never be skinny. In fact, I look bad skinny. I was basically anorexic in high school, so I know. My ribs stick out, my boobs look fake, my body just looks weird when it’s skinny – I’d rather have a little stomach puffiness than a creepy, tiny butt. Bodies are meant to be lumpy, not flat. So, my point is: I’m not fat. I look great, bitches.
The big thing about this whole fat thing is that these guys didn’t know me; they couldn’t have even seen me. They were mad because my insanely intimidating friend John was drunk and he asked them a not-so-nice question. I didn’t say anything, but they looked at our group, which consisted of a giant man, a skinny guy, and short girl, and they chose their target: the short girl. It’s not fair to pick on a person who isn’t doing anything wrong. It also is just downright mean to go for the jugular. Every girl feels fat, worries about being fat, worries about her body, and I hate that people think it’s okay to attack that universal insecurity. Normally, I’m incredibly sassy and if someone is mean to me, I’m mean right back. But when a stranger calls me fat, I’m down for the count. My weakness comes through and I lose my cool.
I am a very normal girl in that I am insecure, but I wish I wasn’t. I wish that even in the face of my biggest insecurities, I could stay sassy, smartassy and generally kickassy. Someday I’ll be able to be awesome all the time. Right now, I’m only awesome when I’m not being called fat.
I’m not fat. I’m not skinny. I’m Patty.
Screw you guys!