Of course, you look like that. You’re probably 22. Or 14. It’s hard to tell these days. Not all of us can pay $400 for a perfectly tailored bikini. Let me know when your trust fund goes public. It’s obvious to me that you are a butt-grower and not a stomach-grower. And I hate you for that. Stop looking at me. I’m working on it. I’M WORKING ON IT. If I was 6 inches taller than I am, I might look like you, too. Clearly you’ve not grown any human beings with your BODY yet. Don’t do that thing with your hands on the front of your hips to make your waist look skinnier. We all know that trick. Just stop it. How many fedoras do you own? I would, just once, like to see you cook dinner while simultaneously feeding a toddler a snack who NEVER STOPS EATING and also packing lunch for the next day while, oh yes, having a glass of wine. I think I see a dimple in your butt! HA!
I used to speak to freshmen girls before their first year of high school began. I’d describe a very familiar scene to girls: We’re walking down the hallways, one girl on one side and one on the other. As I get closer to her, I peer at her out of the corner of my eye. I scan. I see her hair. It’s long, thick, wavy, beautiful. My hair is thin and short. I immediately hate her. I say nothing to her as I pass by and I begin to build a picture of her in my mind. She’s probably mean and snotty. I will never be friends with her.
As she walks past me, she sees my boobs. They’re tall, a little big for my frame, and (gasp) real. Her boobs are small. She immediately hates me. She says nothing to me as she passes by and she begins to build a picture of me in her mind. I’m probably slutty and a tease. She will never be friends with me.
One of my favorite challenges to them was to flip the script. Instead of finding the one part of the opposite girl you wish you had and then get pissed about it, compliment it. And mean it. Look at her and said, “I love your hair.” Just try it. What will happen is one of two things: she will get nervous and say nothing or she will smile and say thank you. If she says nothing, she’s more than likely thinking, “Wow. No one has ever said that to me before.” And she is probably so grateful.
Alright. so my comments to the skinny women in bikinis on the beach are mean, jealous things. I know, I know. And I’m currently working on creating the body that I want. I’m working really hard at it. So here’s what I want to say to women on the beach: smile at me. Smile at each other. Be nice. Offer me a teeny, tiny slice of authenticity somewhere in the midst of my complete and udder body-panic. And I will try to stop saying mean things to you in my head and instead compliment your bikini choice instead. (Even though I hate your flat stomach and your never-had-a-child hips.)