I’m a Skinny Bitch – and Proud of It
How can one magazine photo stir up so much body hate?
When Glamour printed a photo of nearly naked Lizzi Miller, highlighting her belly fat and stretch marks, I braced myself. Not because of the pic – Lizzi’s empirically beautiful and magazines should show women of all shapes and sizes – but I knew an onslaught was coming.
The photo sparked a storm of media and impassioned comments from readers. Sure enough, most of those comments heaped praise on “real women” and vitriol on thin (presumably “fake”) women.
Well guess what? I’m a skinny bitch – and proud of it. I’m 5’4″ tall, 100 pounds, with toned arms and defined abs. But it’s not like any of those things just appeared on my pillow from the skinny fairy. I work hard for my body, and I’m no more a “fake” woman than you are.
Man, am I tired of either having to hide my thinness or be hated for it. It reminds me of a scene from Mean Girls, where newcomer Cady fumbles her way through the confusing jungle of popular girl politics:
Regina: But you’re, like, really pretty.
Cady: Thank you.
Regina: So you agree?
Regina: You think you’re really pretty?
Damned if you do, damned if you don’t.