My Ideal Body

When I was little every time I blew out the candles on my birthday cake to a make a wish, I wished for magic.  I thought magic was the perfect wish because that would make all my dreams come true.  When I got a little older, a teenager, I wished to be thin for the same reason.

I wanted to be not only thin, but petite, blonde, with perky boobs, not too big, not too small, and a tiny almost insignificant ass.  This is before the era of Jennifer Lopez and Beyonce’.  God love J-Lo.  I also wanted to be smart, but not too smart and the right kind of smart.  I was the kind of smart that intimidated boys and made me more critical of the world but without the impetus to get good grades.  I cured that last factor when I went to college.   I also wanted to sing and be admired by others with still be thought of as sweet.  I wanted to be cute, blonde, petite, non-threatening, and popular with a pretty voice.  So basically, I wanted to be Galinda the Good Witch from “Wicked.”

There was something magical about those little blonde girls.  They looked like little women.  They were little girls with boobs that somehow adhered to their bodies as if overnight.  And they got the attention from the boys I wanted.  It is hardly their boys’ fault.  All teenage boys like little blonde girl-women.  They can’t help themselves.  They can even the girls were to throw a fit and screech at them and they can just pick them up and throw them over their shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

For the sake of argument, let’s go to the land of make-believe where I am my ideal weight.  Let’s go one step farther and say that I am Hollywood skinny, like Tyra Banks or Brooke Shields.  Go ahead, try picking up Tyra Banks and throwing her over your shoulder like a sack of potatoes.  That woman would throw you to the ground and bitch you out for trying.

Here’s the thing.  Even if I were “skinny” (whatever that means) I am still going to be almost six feet tall with big boobs and an ass that has no business being on a white girl.  I am still going to be smart (whatever that means) and I am probably still going to have a big mouth.  I am not quite as attention seeking as I was in my youth, but I still like to speak my mind.

I remember this event where this boy I think was kind of cute was doing a “smoothness test” on these girls legs at some youth gathering thing at someone’s house.  The “smoothness test” was to check how close the girls shaved their legs, but really it was just an excuse for the boy to touch them in a seductive yet seemingly innocent way.  Genius.  The girls were sitting on a counter with the spindly legs wagging over the edge taunting the boy like a red cape to a bull.  No boy, no man has ever done the smoothness test on my legs.  Maybe they’re afraid I’ll kick them in the head if they try.

Why can’t I be happy with my body the way it is?  I got catcalled and was flirted with everywhere I went this weekend.  Yes, some of this was when I was dressed in fishnets and high heels going to “Rocky Horror Picture Show”, but also when I was just walking around Mass Avenue in regular clothes.  I guess I have a “coke bottle” body.  This body type of characterized by round breasts, small waist and a full hips and thick legs is celebrated in the African-American community.  I heard it referenced in a rap song and decided that my body, even as it is right now, resembled this coke bottle image.  Why can’t I be happy with looking all bootilicious with a body that makes men think that, perhaps, something sweet and refreshing is contained in all that curvy goodness?  But no, I want to look like the straw: long, thin, and hollow.

I sigh audibly even as I type this.  Why? Why was this so important?  Why did I study the nutritional information on food packages instead of studying algebra or economics, something useful?  To this day even though I have a great boyfriend who thinks I am sexy and have to politely turn down men’s attention with “I have a boyfriend, thank you” often, I am still shocked that men might find me attractive.  Damn you stupid high school boy!

If you look at some of those girls I envied, time has not been as kind to them.  If you look like an adult so soon, it can be difficult to retain one’s youthfulness.  Also, on such a small frame, it is hard to carry any kind of weight “well.”  As if anyone can wear weight well.  But they were cute once and being that cute, having that kind of power over the male species can be heady and they often still have that spunk.  Me, I’m too nice, too eager, and have yet to learn how to be unapproachable.  I also, at times, have a bit of a chip on my shoulder.

Perhaps there can be some kind of benefit to not being a “cute girl” when I was young.  Perhaps not having to entertain men means I had time to work on myself and losing my beauty to the ravages of time won’t be quite so traumatic.  That’s a whole other topic.

I like being tall and I like having my curves.  I accept the only way to achieve my ideal of being petite and blonde would require a brain transplant.  I would also require some kind of lobotomy in the part of my brain that controls speech and opinions.  And maybe up the part of my brain that makes me submissive and modest needs to be surgically amplified.  That part of my brain is obviously underdeveloped. 

So, I will accept my coke bottle body.  I am obviously a 20 ouncer for extra refreshment. But still, to be light enough to float through Oz on a bubble would be nice too.