Some of the harshest criticisms I’ve received for being fat have been from myself. Sure, in elementary school I was called Crater Maker, was told I could block out the sun, and during swim practice Anthony P. liked to draw attention to “them rolls” in his loudest voice so it would carry over the dome of the Aquaplex. But those insults are tame in comparison to the things I said to myself in my head daily about being Plus Size with a small bust.
A lot of being a fat woman is saying sentences to ourselves that begin like, “I would be happier if…” or “I just need to be…” Most of my life my internal script has been, “I would be pretty and happy if I had bigger boobs.” This was usually followed immediately by, “what’s the point of being a fat girl if I don’t get the fat girl boobs?”
Androgyny is reserved for those with extreme waifness and not lumpy folks like me. Roundness is feminine. It’s soft and weak. I am rarely weak, though always vulnerable. I can be soft but that can change in an instant. My hair is mermaid long and passed my shoulders for the first time in my life and I often feel like it doesn’t add femininity, it brings me to a comfortable place close to androgyny.
As I approach 30 I have found this place for my style, my voice, my self and my soul. It is neither feminine or masculine, at times it is both at once but never one entirely.
As a preteen I felt I had a choice to make. I liked my mushroom cut, my flannel shirts and woodworking. But I also liked the dresses my granny made me; silk ones and ones with empire waists and multiple tiers of peplum darting.
Today I wore a leather jacket and lace top with pants and that’s a privilege I have as a women to be able to present myself through any clothing of my choosing without intense ridicule or violence. I now see my small breast as an opportunity to be able to present in my outward appearance how I may be feeling in a given moment.
I never spend more than $10 on a bra, because I’m not concerned about finding my size — the elusive 42 B — or about support. My triangle tits and I can reach a place when I can present as neutral as I’d like. If I were to have the boobs I so desperately wanted back then, and at times still want, I wouldn’t be able to do this. I have the option to perk up my chest and buy padding and Jessica Rabbit all over the place, but those times are so rare it doesn’t warrant to inner turmoil I used to put myself through.aging, androgyny, body positive, body positivity, fat babe, fat visibility, Feminism, Gender, gender fluid, gender identity, size diversity, small boobs, Yuli Scheidt