Why are we so afraid of going a size up in clothes when boys literally don’t give a shit?

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It happened last month and it had been a very long time coming.

I’m a size 14. Hear that everyone, i’m a size 14.

That feels like a massive thing to say and as I type it I’m flooded with disgust at myself. Last thing I remember I was a 15-year-old crying because although I wore size 10 Topshop jeans (FML, I can’t even imagine), my belly wasn’t toned like my friend’s (she was a national gymnast, and I was really good at Mario Kart 64, so you can sort of see how the difference in our stomachs MAY have occurred…). And now i’m here, only a size away from being the biggest size both Topshop and Miss Selfridge stock and it’s fucking terrifying.

I won’t lie to you, I would rather break an arm or lose my job then go up a dress size. And yes, I know that sounds pathetic and petty and idiotic, but still. The idea that people I went to school with could be Whatsapping each other full of LOLZ about how chubby I look on Instagram, or that my best friends will pull faces at each other after i’ve left them and say ‘so, err, is it just me or has Hannah gained weight?’ That. That thought is what kills me on the inside, I don’t want to be the chubby one. I want to be the cool, slim, pretty one, not the chubby, funny one.

Going up to a size 14 hasn’t been a sudden thing – I have this belief in my head that i’ve suddenly doubled in weight in a very short space of time and everyone will notice – the truth is that size 12 jeans have been gathering dust (and probs a spot of mould and cat hair) at the back of my drawer for nearly two years, many of my size 12 dresses will only do up if there’s three people helping me into said dress, and my size 12 pants have been digging into the band of fat around my midriff rather than sitting gracefully on it for quite some time.

It’s always been the way for me, and i’m sure for a lot of you out there, that you have this innate drive to eat healthily and go the gym when you’re single – maybe it’s because you have some stupid insecure belief that boys will flock to you if you drop a stone (this is me all over BTW), or maybe it’s because you haven’t got someone constantly whispering to you from across the sofa about ordering in an Indian and popping to the shop for snacks. FFS. But I am always at my heaviest when i’m in a relationship.

But now being in a place where i’m a ‘small’ 14, means that my clothes fit. I can eat a three course meal and not have to undo anything. They just fit regardless, and you know what? It feels like an absolute fucking relief – like taking your bra off at the end of a very long day. And I reckon I look nicer too, because there’s no back fat trying desperately to escape through my too-tight clothes.

The point of this post was actually not to go into so much detail about my growing body shape, but to compare our desperation at staying a small clothes size against the way men treat clothes sizing.

I wanted to pick up my boyfriend some new non-holey pants (soz, Chris for that share) and he has the tiniest bum known to man, so I was like ‘do you want small or medium?’ and he was like ‘no I want large, they fit better and don’t dig in’.

What a nice mantra we should all live by. The idea of going up a size because it might be more comfortable is something most of us would never consider. Fuck being a size larger than you need to be. But why? Why are we so afraid of it? Firstly, no-one else needs to even know that we’ve done it, and secondly, why does it even matter? Going up a size doesn’t change the body underneath the clothes, or for that matter, the person – so why are we so ashamed by our changing bodies?

I think, in a world where women are constantly being told to be greater than men, here is a situation where we should follow their lead. We should stop being afraid of what size clothes we’re wearing and stop wincing with horror every time something in our ‘size’ doesn’t quite zip up in the changing rooms. We should st0p defining ourselves as unattractive and disgusting just because we don’t look like a Victoria’s Secret model naked (I mean I definitely do, I was just talking about you).

There’s more to life than hating your body.

 

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