I haven’t felt at a disadvantage because of my sex in a long time. In high school it seemed it was going to always be the worst thing in the world to be female. Literally every day some man or boy would sexually harass me at the bus stop as I waited for my bus home. And we had a ridiculous stomach turning assholish duo running my junior high and high school, two disgusting evil horrible pigfaces as the vice principal and principal, so my school felt like a sexist place every day, and that was so depressing, because even though I was old enough to know better, I still felt like children should be protected by adults. I’m tempted to tell all the frustrating stories from this time period that acted as catalysts for me being a very outspoken feminist in my teens, but if you are a girl reading this, chances are you already have your own stories of teachers telling you ‘boys will be boys’ and getting shut down in class because you weren’t expected to know the answers, or maybe even, like me, you have worse stories like of a school security guard with a long history of child molestation trying to woo you, and none of the teachers or counselors giving two shits when you find out he’s been the “boyfriend” of a 12 year old girl all year and you try to help or protect her. Anyway, as an adult woman, I feel stronger and more capable and even more respected in general than many of my male counterparts. Most days I feel like I could chew through iron if I needed to. But sometimes I still feel sad to be a woman. Some days my pussy stinks from how heavy my period is and my mustache shows up on my upper lip more noticeably than usual and my feet sweat in their cute Mary Janes and I feel that in some ways I am a loser, and that I’ve let my looks go, which even seems to disappoint my male doctors, who used to practically clap and sing “Bravo!” and throw roses at me when I was underweight and so beautifully neurotic, instead of the workhorse I sometimes feel I am now. Almost every day somebody asks me when I’m due, because I have a huge round belly full of fat and a big fat ass. So I suck my stomach in wherever I go, and I dread being on the elevator with anyone else, because for some reason nobody can stand a quiet elevator ride and that seems to be the time most people decide it’s safe to go ahead and assume I’m pregnant and ask me about it. And now I’m wary of people being nice to me at work, especially new people, because I’m almost positive the extra niceness is due to them thinking I’m pregnant. I just want to be allowed to eat and be chubby in peace, and go on some exercise and no junk food regimen when I’m ready, not because I’m being shamed into it by a bunch of un-artistic, naively rude strangers. And sometimes it stings to be an administrative assistant, instead of the writer or rockstar I’d imagined I was going to be. As an administrative assistant, it sometimes feels like my job is to be the behind the scenes fixer of problems caused by men who work in big broad strokes and can’t be bothered with the details, the little crumbs of minutiae I’m supposed to labor over like a dumb high-strung bird picking through mud for worms to feed her babies. Yes, sometimes it feels redundant and foul-smelling and under-appreciated and slightly ridiculous to be female.
|Too Chubby for Peace of Mind|