Glamazons vs. Stick-Insects
Since when did it become fashionable to be as skinny as some of those dorky guys that run around in skinny jeans? I’ve noticed a growing trend amongst young women nowadays and the more it progresses the more insecure I find myself being. I walked into work the other day and I found myself surrounded by beautiful young women who were all size six and barely had anything on them. Do you know how insecure I felt? I saw myself as dumpy, fat and completely unattractive standing next to the skinny blonde that works in the next cubicle over from me during our weekly feedback meeting to the boss. However, when I got home and saw myself in the mirror without the stick insect present, I suddenly felt fine again. It got me wondering why earlier my confidence just disappeared into thin air when faced with some other young woman who obviously didn’t enjoy food the way I did.
In search for the truth, the day before yesterday I went out and bought a wad of magazines from the news stand outside my office and I flicked through them as I had my working lunch. Before me flashed images of adverts in which the women were impossibly skinny. Women who were obviously giants, but yet had no shape. Since when did it become the norm for emaciated stick-insects to be in fashion?
It was then, at that exact moment as I was thinking this, that I heard over my shoulder, “Christ, I’ve seen more fat on a chip.”
Turning around, I looked up and found myself face to face with the guy who worked in the accounts department as he was shovelling a burger into his mouth. I wasn’t sure whether to be revolted or curious. While the sight of some huge burger being forced into a mouth too small for it was enough to make me shudder and turn away, I wanted to ask this atypical man exactly what he meant and after allowing him some time to chew and swallow the huge bite he had taken, I asked, “So do you not find someone skinny like this attractive?”
“Absolutely not,” was the instant reply.
I chuckled, turned the page and pointed out the woman in the next advert, “What about her? Is she sexy?”
“Nope,” he said, once again without hesitation. He stared at the picture for another moment before looking up at me and saying, “Don’t worry lovey, I’d pick you over them any day.” He then made a hasty retreat back to his department and left me partially in shock and partially in wonderment. Was that a hit and run confession?
After work, laden with my work bag and with an armful of fashion magazines, I waddled out of the office and walked the short walk to my apartment. It was as I walked that I noticed that people were staring at me. And not just people, but men. I hadn’t noticed those stares since I was fifteen and first became aware of my growing figure. It was an odd sensation and I was suddenly filled with a sense of well being. However when I glanced in the reflection of a nearby shop window, I noticed that there was a skinny red-head walking behind me with barely any clothing on; were they staring at me, or that stick-insect?
Once again, when I got home I found myself back to confidence square one. I knew that I was probably being irrational. I knew that some of those women I often felt such hostility towards were naturally skinny and therefore didn’t deserve my hate, but I just couldn’t help myself. What happened to the good old days when it was curvy women like Marilyn Monroe and Jayne Mansfield that men creamed themselves over? Why do women like me have to feel inadequate even though we’re an average size 8 or 10?
It wasn’t until last night that the eternal battle between my rational self and my paranoid, fashion conscious self was finally won. I had been invited out clubbing with some of my friends from work and I decided I might as well tag along, even if clubbing wasn’t really my thing. While most of my friends enjoyed themselves on the dance floor, I sat at the bar grinning at them all and it was then that I noticed something out of the corner of my eye. Turning, I caught sight of the most handsome man I had ever met, and he was staring directly at me. This time I was sure it was me because the bar area was relatively empty and I sat alone with my drink. Just to make sure, I flashed him a coy smile and, to my surprise and wonderment, he started weaving his way over to me. I wasn’t quite sure what to do with myself when he finally he reached me and spoke.
“I would say I’m sorry for staring,” he told me as he slid onto the stool next to mine, “But I’m not sorry. Not when I’m able to stare at such beauty.”
Taken aback by his forwardness, I was speechless for a moment before smiling and asking shyly, “Are you sure you’re speaking to the right person?”
“Oh wait, no, sorry, I’m talking about the bartender,” he replied before chuckling. He flashed me a dashing smile as he said, “Yes, I’m speaking to the right person. I’m a little shocked that you’re unaware of it.”
“Well, let’s just say that I’ve been doing some thinking, that’s all,” I replied, staring down at my drink shyly.
“Ah, a girl that thinks! Finally, one that exists. So what have you been thinking about?”
A wondered whether I should tell the truth or just come up with something random, but I figured that an honest answer was the best option. “The battle between women like me and stick-insects.”
“Stick insects?”
I chuckled. “Yes, those skinny girls. Like the ones over there.” I pointed towards my group of co-workers.
“Those aren’t real women,” he replied. It was an almost perfect answer, only made absolutely perfect when he quickly added, “If I wanted to date someone with the figure of a 14 year old boy, I’d date a 14 year old boy. I prefer real women.”
I stared at him in amazement for a moment before he suddenly checked his watch and said regretfully, “Unfortunately I have to go now. My friends are leaving soon and I should rejoin them one last time before I head off home.”
“Oh, that’s a shame,” I said, really meaning it.
He flashed me his dashing smile once more. “I hope to see you again soon.” He then slipped away and I felt like the wind had just been knocked out of me. Who was he?
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