Why I Won't Call You Skinny

I was 10 years old and standing in the school hallway before class. A former teacher looked at me and gushed as she told me how skinny I was, how much weight I had lost, and how incredible I looked. I learned on that day; skinny was to be praised.
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I remember the first time I heard the words that will stay with me forever. I remember the smile on the woman's face as she looked at me with envy and I remember the pride that exuded from me that day, thinking I had just won a gold metal. No, those words weren't "You are amazing." No, they weren't "You are so smart" or "kind." They weren't even "You are beautiful." Those words which held me in a death trap for over a decade were, "You are so skinny!"

I was 10 years old and standing in the school hallway before class. A former teacher looked at me and gushed as she told me how skinny I was, how much weight I had lost, and how incredible I looked. I learned on that day; skinny was to be praised; skinny was noteworthy; skinny made people stop and notice; and skinny was what I should strive to be. My heart breaks and I literally feel sick as I think of that young, innocent girl holding her princess backpack as her grasp of beauty begins to slip through her fingers.

I think if only the teacher had known I lost weight because of mental issues that were weighing me down, if she had only known each day at lunch I traded my home packed lunch for half of a Subway sandwich (that a girl who's mom was on the Subway diet gave her each day.) And if only she knew, that once I was given that six-inch sandwich I never managed to eat half of it. If only she knew, ironically the same year, I learned about how important skinny was, I also learned what eating disorders were. However, I never even dreamed I could have an eating disorder, because I wasn't an emaciated ballerina, and I didn't throw up my food. So how in the world could I have a problem? That same year I would stand outside my class with a headache so terrible I could barely focus, because I had eaten nearly nothing that day. The only thought which crossed my mind as I stood there, was "If this is what it takes to be skinny, it is worth it."

For over a decade I would believe the lie, "Skinny was the best thing possible." Skinny fueled my eating disorder. I would try to brush off every compliment related to my size. I would deny it when someone said I was smaller than them. Shrug my shoulders when size "x" didn't fit me. I would laugh when someone asked me for my diet and exercise tips. Inside, I would be thrilled. I was ecstatic of the praise and attention. Proud that my size had earned me this "privilege."

Secretly though, I was dying, physically, mentally and emotionally. I thought in order to be loved, in order to be valued, in order to be praiseworthy I needed to stay this skinny. It was a losing game, because no matter what the number on the scale said, no matter how small the size got, no matter how many people complimented, it wasn't enough. And even more, the skinnier I got, the more I lost myself. I had no idea what true beauty was and that it had nothing to do with the size you were.

Looking back I don't blame the woman who stopped me in the hallway; she didn't cause my eating disorder. My eating disorder was about so much more than that -- that woman merely played the part that society has taught us to play. We are taught from an extremely young age that beauty and (even more) size are important. We are taught to praise and take notice of size. We are taught that size defines our worth and who we are.

What if I told you it didn't though? What if I told you striving for skinny and even more perfection won't get you anywhere but heartache. If you know me today you know, no matter how much weight you may have lost or gained, I will never comment on your size. I will never tell you how skinny you are. I will never say you look like you've put on weight. Because I don't believe commenting on people's sizes is appropriate in any way, shape or form. I don't believe your view of beautiful should be determined by a size, by a comment, by a magazine or by comparison.

When we take time out to comment on something we are stating what we feel is important to say. When we comment, worth is put in our words. I never want someone to think they are valued for their size. Because size doesn't define worth. Size doesn't define beauty.

May you know you are beautiful for millions of things, but your size should never dictate your beauty. And may we work together to stop using words like skinny or fat or commenting on size in general.

If you're struggling with an eating disorder, call the National Eating Disorder Association hotline at 1-800-931-2237.

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