Brianna jacobs

Big, Bold, Beautiful (Ashley)

 

A Stream of Consciousness

 

 

I’ve been told I’m the girl with just a pretty face,

With gorgeous green almond shaped eyes,

With a nice straight smile (thanks to braces),

With big, luxurious, curly, brunette hair,

With huge tits (44 DDD),

With high cheek bones,

The ‘photogenic’ one,

The one with confidence (which makes some uncomfortable, because how could I, someone who’s a voluptuous, hefty size 24, be more comfortable in my skin than someone who is a size 6?)

 

 

But that was it. I heard nothing else. Not that I don’t like to hear most of those things, but I’m so much more that those things.

My body was never complimented on, or even talked about in a positive way. As a kid, if it was talked about, it was from a backhanded compliment, someone tell me I was too big, or I was yelled at from passing cars as I walked home from school from teenage boys who had an enclosed vehicle and speed to their advantage.

 

 

I have big arms that don’t fit in most shirtsleeves at Old Navy. My arms are the things about my body I’m most insecure about. I’ll go out in a bathing suit with ease, but you’ll never see me in a tank top unless I’m getting ready for the day or going to sleep.

However, I like that they’re soft. I like they’re squishy. I find most people like to lay their head on them and get their cuddle on. I like that they bring my loved ones comfort.

 

 

I have faded stretch marks on my body; most aren’t noticeable. I have back rolls and big thunder thighs that are attached to strong calves. I have strong legs that take me everywhere I want to go, they carry me through the day, and they allow me to own the dance floor. These legs have adjusted to my body my whole life.

 

 

I have two soft belly rolls, separated by my navel. I have a big butt that’s not the roundest with some cute dimples on it (cellulite, the HORROR). Everything on me is big. I take up space. No one in my family looks like me. In my kin, I am not the tallest, but certainly the widest.

 

 

I don’t remember not having big breasts. They aren’t the perkiest things, but rarely do you see natural breasts at this size that are perky. Damn do they look good in a bra. When i was younger, I had wished and wished and wished they would just jump up a little. And I said to myself when I was older, when I could afford it, I would get surgery, and that no guy would ever like them the state they’re in, I must fix them (fuck that, not true, and who cares what ~boys~ think anyway).

 

Oh and food? I love food. I could talk about food for hours. Sandwiches pressed and hot, melting cheese, burgers, wings, salads, fruit salads, homemade sauce, homemade soup, steak shish kebabs. I like cooking. I like cooking for my family and those I care about. I think the kitchen is the heart of a home. I like learning different techniques. I’ll attempt to cook anything. Food brings joy to life. Food stimulates all the senses. Sitting around a kitchen table chatting before, during, and after a meal is one of my favorite things and also holds some of my fondest memories. And I won’t trade any of that to skip a meal or diet to become smaller.

 

 

I was always big. I don’t know what it’s like to walk and not have my thighs touch. I’m constantly buying jeans because of the wear and tear the inseams get. And don’t forget about dresses in the summer, a challenge for my thighs but who doesn’t love a cute sundress.

 

 

I don’t know what it’s like to buy things from Victoria’s Secret or clothes from most places in the mall. Which means I get creative. And I’m okay with that. I make things work. I enjoy the puzzle. I work with a world that doesn’t work with me.

 

 

As a kid, I’ve learned things from my parents, from kids at school, but never from my two older brothers. My mom made me join Weight Watchers and get a nutritionist when I was in third grade. And every week, on Wednesday nights, I was in a room with a bunch of women in their 40’s. And the one night, I refused to get out of the car. And that was that.

 

 

I’ve been told:

 

“If you keep this up you’ll be as big as a house!” - Dad

“Well if you’d just get off your fat ass!” - Mom (but later apologized)

“I wish you could find someone.” - Mom

“Look at these chubby things, you need to do something!” - Aunt while she pinched my fingers at five years old.

“You look pregnant.” - Classmate

“Ashley’s as big as Africa.” - Classmate

“Where in the WORLD did you get that confidence?” - Most people.

 

 

That’s just a taste.

 

 

And somehow, someday, I knew if I just stuck it out, it would get better. I don’t know why I had that message. It’s not like I grew up with a woman of size as a role model, or that I saw fat girls in movies that were more than the comical best friend or the butt of the joke, but I’m so grateful I never veered away from that belief. I never saw anyone in my life that showed me that being my size was okay. That being my size was attractive. But I believed it myself.

 

The only times I’ve wished I was smaller was when it came from an outside societal influence, it was never me on my own thinking I needed to change. I only want to change society’s standards. The standards that make girls like me think we aren’t worth our own self-love, someone else’s love, and that we aren’t human beings with feelings.

 

 

Realistically, sometimes I have bad days. I don’t usually think negatively about my body, I try to focus more on the fact that I’m different than most. the negativity spawns in others against my body, which get projected onto me. I don’t have room for anyone in my life that isn’t here for a positive outlook for me. I mostly dislike society because I’m not accepted or considered normal. I don’t think what I am is wrong, even if I’ve been told my whole life that I am and that I don’t belong. On bad days, I tell myself that this is the only body I’ve got and will ever have. The miniscule things I don’t like about my body I can’t change all that easily, so why spend so much time hating them?

 

 

I think what really helped me pull through, was knowing that I was a well-rounded person and that I had a bunch of love to give. I knew I had so much more to offer than how much space I took up.

 

 

I’ve learned to never apologize for my size, to never apologize for what I am. I’m sturdy. I’m durable. I’m strong. But I’m also soft and supple. I have the best of both worlds.

***Flawless.

 

-Ashley Berube