i have been thinking a lot about too many books and high ceilings with beams and jane austen and

weight.

there are a lot of really thin girls at my school. maybe i just notice them because of the stark contrast between them and me. but there is. i see them everyday.

i felt really badly for one girl yesterday.

she was cute. she had really nice hair; it was down to her shoulders and mouse brown. and she had a nice wool coat, but her skirt was really short. it sparkled with tiny grey sequins. she wore tights, with big, black lace flowers printed on them. 

her thighs were really small.

and i felt bad, for her.

maybe it’s because i have been looking at lots of pictures of sophia loren, or maybe it’s because i like myself, or maybe i stared too long. i just felt badly for her. i think our perceptions of weight and skinny are off. there are spaces that should be filled with you. especially around your legs. i don’t know why we don’t understand that anymore. i don’t know why we don’t appreciate that anymore.

i don’t mean that there is an idealized version of a woman. if there is, i am certainly not it. but i do mean that i don’t think you should make yourself disappear. i like to think of it in terms of dancers. dancers have legs. dancers are strong. what if all the dancers wanted to be thinner? 

what would happen to dance?

i think women come in all shapes and sizes. i think women are beautiful. i think women should be powerful and full and happy with themselves. i don’t think that that girl was. the space between her legs defined her self-consciousness. she sat like she wanted more spaces, like she wanted less of her for people to look at. i kind of like that my thighs touch each other. i kind of like sophia loren’s stretch marks.

i like feeling capable.

i think if i had more spaces, i would feel less capable.

it’s days like yesterday that i feel insane.