When I tell you the average women’s dress size in the United States is 18 does it make you want to go all Michelle Obama on me and scream, “Obesity! The fatties are coming!”?
Because, while I might not scream fat-prejudiced epithets, I definitely think, “Hm… size 18. Americans need to lay off the fast food and fried cheese or the land of the plenty will sink into the sea.”
My waistline continues to grow as middle age approaches and I pop out the children. Right now I’m doing the watered down challenge and it’s no lie I’d like to say goodbye to the lard baby forever.
In my mind, I’d like to be a six 6. I’d take an 8, which is the size I parked on from 1993 to 2006, but a size 6, that’s my ideal.
A few days ago I come across this little article from Marie Claire where they took pictures of lovely women of various sizes and asked people which size they preferred.
Guess what? Their answer was size 12. And that’s the size I preferred to see as well – the size 6 model was undoubtably beautiful but gave me the idea she could easily be snapped in two if involved in a tickle fight, snowboarding crash or wrestle with a large dog.
All of this made me wonder: For a feminist-leaning, body-image-awareness spouting, educated woman… how much skinny hype have I gobbled down without awareness? What should my next step be as I adjust my perspective?
So, you tell me – take a look at the photo on this post and tell me which size you prefer? Does that surprise you at all?
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