The skinny bitches who lied

Did you know that when you lie in bed with your knees together they hurt? It’s a new thing for me. Lying on my side in bed has never been an issue it’s simply just the way I’ve slept since I was a kid. Five weeks ago I got my stomach chopped out. Literally removed.

My bits are squishy. They’ve always been squishy. They will always be squishy. But lately, my bones have started to poke through the squish. One night last week I couldn’t sleep. Twist and turn, roll and tangle. As I finally settled into the only position that guarantees sleep – and I’m not being dirty here for once – I felt my knees knock together. Not the normal moving squish when my knees, thighs or any other part of my body normally touches, but the knock of sharpness on sharpness.

My knees had hit together and bone had struck bone. I don’t have a horror worthy compound fractures that sees bone exposed through my skin. I don’t have a rare disease or ailment that makes my bones sharp, pointy and sees me transform into a gnarled witch.

No, none of that, cutting my stomach out has merely made me a little bit skinnier. Not a lot, it’s only been five weeks but enough for me to notice that getting skinny is not all it’s cracked up to be. They, the skinny folk, walk the Earth as if being skinny is a life of love and light. Tight pants with a thigh gap, high heels that don’t bend in the middle, a glimpse of stomach flesh that doesn’t have a wrinkle, oh yes, it’s all just glitz and glamour in the mirrors of valley girl. But it’s not true is it skinny bitches? Not true at all.

My knees were the first thing I noticed because it’s the one that caused the most physical pain, but there are other things that the skinny girls never told me about. For the first time in a long time there are places on my body I can see now and fuck me, hair grows there. I didn’t think I was terrible at maintaining my lady bits. I landscape. I survive through summer and I thought I was doing ok, but now I can get my head down there, it turns out there’s a few more spots to reach. Shower maintenance time has increased quite significantly and this is not something I want to spend my summer doing. The last thing I need is more time thinking how long it’s been like that and how many people have noticed that I am a shit gardener.

Secondly; hugging. I still like a good hug and I pride myself on my ability to hug. I’m a good hugger. I rarely am so cocky about any of my abilities, but I’m good at it people. GOOD AT IT. There’s lots of me to squeeze and I like to make sure that my hugs are a safe and loving place to hide for both of us. Even when I hug the skinny bitches my belly lets me fill the space between us and we both get to feel loved and squeezed. Well that shit’s getting more awkward. The skinnier I get up top, the more awkward the hugs become. My belly still fills the space between us, but my disappearing frame at the top feels like two paddle pop sticks patting each other on the back. Skinny bitches, your hugs without your whole body aren’t great and I’m running out of belly to fill the space. Be thankful I’m back in the gym next week building guns to drag you deeper into my remaining squishy self.

However the most awful thing that my skinny bitches didn’t tell me about are the over attentive retail assistants. Did you know that as a fat girl in any store that doesn’t carry plus sizes we have a superpower? We get to scour the racks for all of the stretchy things in jersey fabric in an XL without being pestered, asked ridiculous questions or offered help with our size. No, no, as a fat girl in a skinny girl shop, we are invisible. We get to shop unmolested in absolute peace and quiet. It’s amazing. Today, shopping in the skinny girl shop, the skinny bitches did not go away. They just kept coming. One after the other. ‘Hi, what size are you after?’ ‘Can I put those in a change room for you?’ ‘That colour would look great on you!’ Fuck off lady. My size is still XL, no you can’t take them because I don’t want you to ask me what they look like if I can’t get it over my head, and no I look like I have alopecia in this colour. It was an anxiety inducing, sweaty palmed experience I am in no hurry to repeat.

No you skinny bitches didn’t tell me about any of that. There have been a few positives about the changing body shape. Yes, I can see my feet in the shower, yes, the XL fits like it supposed to instead of me pretending it’s a crop top and yes, some of my fat girl knits have become these very cool 80s off the shoulder jumper dresses. That shit is all pretty cool. But skinny bitches, it’s not all valley girl glamour is it? Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m about to invest in women’s hair removal.No you skinny bitches didn’t tell me about any of that.

There have been a few positives about the changing body shape. Yes, I can see my feet in the shower, yes, the XL fits like it supposed to instead of me pretending it’s a crop top and yes, some of my fat girl knits have become these very cool 80s off the shoulder jumper dresses. That shit is all pretty cool. But skinny bitches, it’s not all valley girl glamour is it? Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m about to invest in women’s hair removal.