Body Types

Occasionally I indulge my masochism by reading craigslist Rants'n'Raves about BBWs, lest it slip my mind that we are the most loathsome creatures on the planet. A recurring theme is how to identify a BBW (perhaps the better to avoid them).

One helpful female posted this graph, describing herself as a P3 (which begs the question why she is concerned about this particular debate, but oh well...) I'll admit I've studied it for several minutes, and I haven't a clue what my shape is, although clearly I'm standing to the right in one of these lineups.

This brings up the whole issue of body "dysmorphia" which Max and I have discussed at some length. When we were at our fattest, we only could see what we really looked like (looked like to other people) in photographs. In other words, the camera doesn't lie, but the mirror surely does.

My freshman year of college I lost 100 pounds on a diet that consisted primarily of unrequited love, pots of black coffee, manic dancing, and a newly acquired smoking habit. Once I had been exiled from Lane Bryant (a sales clerk literally "shooed" me out the store), I was disoriented. I didn't know where to shop for clothes anymore.

Now that I've lost a little weight, I find I have no idea which clothes will fit me. Something I judge to be too small hangs. Waistbands that look ample still bind.

Periodically (whenever I can't sleep) I go through my closet and try everything on. I move the clothes I can now squeeze into to the front of the line. I push the clothes that are still too small to the back. I'm sad when I realize that I have managed to bypass a size without ever getting to wear the item. I'm disappointed that some items are both too small and too large -- in other words, they just don't fit my proportions, and never will, unless I take up a second career as a linebacker. Those go to charity, where hopefully some top-heavy indigent (a homeless transvestite, perhaps?) will enjoy them.