Love in a Big Way?
May. 28th, 2010 03:55 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
krikketgirlThere are lots of things about my husband that I could talk positively about. One thing that I often think about him is that he loves me in spite of myself. And he does, but I think that sometimes what I really mean is that he loves me for things that make me awkward socially. Hang on, I'll explain.
We, as a society, pay lip service to the idea of individuality. What this really means, though, is that society supports your difference as long as your difference is in the majority. So it's cool to like jazz if a lot of people like you like jazz...but it wasn't cool until it started to become a major thing. Majority rules, even if you're trying not to be like the majority.
Let's take body size. I'm not talking so much about weight here, because I would be the first to tell you that I could stand to lose a few pounds (and I am making progress, just for the record). On the other hand, I am one of those who can honestly lay claim to big bones--whatever raw genetic ingredients were mixed together to make me, they weren't skimped on. I'm a tall, big-hearted, big-boned person, and I'm reminded of this every time I go shopping for shoes, jewelry, or clothing.
It's taken time to get used to being above-average in size, even when I was well below the right weight range for my height. Even as a stick-thin twiggy teenager, I had to forego bracelets (too small!), cute girls' tennis shoes (wide feet!), and ladies' watches (too short!). There has never been a time when shopping for clothing has been fun for me. Instead, when I make these shopping forays, I feel like there is a message hanging from every rack and clothing hook: "You're not average. Try sportswear. Forget anything cute and fun: you must wear bold patterns and gaudy get-ups, for Thou Art Large."
I have to buy shoes from expensive stores, because most department stores don't even carry my size. Shoe salesmen sigh and mutter things like, "Hard to fit." Most of the shoes I buy come in only black. Big feet? Well, say the shoe manufacturers, clearly you're not going to want them to be in anything attractive. Black and plain will do for you.
Forget ladies' tennis shoes, with their cute styles and patterns. I skulk into the men's department, vaguely hoping that the guys will figure I'm shopping for a husband or son instead of trying to find something not terribly masculine that will fit my broad feet. I feel clunky and dumb for being so extravagantly sized.
The only place I feel comfortable? At home, with Chris. Because he loves me for the things that society says are awkward. I think one simple story will illustrate this--some of you may already know it.
Once, when we were first married, Chris said, "I love your hands."
"My hands?" I asked, in some surprise.
"Yes," he said, dreamily. "They're like...mechanic's hands."
Well, they are like mechanic's hands. And while I do rather wish that one morning I'd wake up at 5'6" and 140 lbs., with demure feet and hands...if I have to be proportioned the way I am, I am ever so thankful to be married to someone who loves me for it.
We, as a society, pay lip service to the idea of individuality. What this really means, though, is that society supports your difference as long as your difference is in the majority. So it's cool to like jazz if a lot of people like you like jazz...but it wasn't cool until it started to become a major thing. Majority rules, even if you're trying not to be like the majority.
Let's take body size. I'm not talking so much about weight here, because I would be the first to tell you that I could stand to lose a few pounds (and I am making progress, just for the record). On the other hand, I am one of those who can honestly lay claim to big bones--whatever raw genetic ingredients were mixed together to make me, they weren't skimped on. I'm a tall, big-hearted, big-boned person, and I'm reminded of this every time I go shopping for shoes, jewelry, or clothing.
It's taken time to get used to being above-average in size, even when I was well below the right weight range for my height. Even as a stick-thin twiggy teenager, I had to forego bracelets (too small!), cute girls' tennis shoes (wide feet!), and ladies' watches (too short!). There has never been a time when shopping for clothing has been fun for me. Instead, when I make these shopping forays, I feel like there is a message hanging from every rack and clothing hook: "You're not average. Try sportswear. Forget anything cute and fun: you must wear bold patterns and gaudy get-ups, for Thou Art Large."
I have to buy shoes from expensive stores, because most department stores don't even carry my size. Shoe salesmen sigh and mutter things like, "Hard to fit." Most of the shoes I buy come in only black. Big feet? Well, say the shoe manufacturers, clearly you're not going to want them to be in anything attractive. Black and plain will do for you.
Forget ladies' tennis shoes, with their cute styles and patterns. I skulk into the men's department, vaguely hoping that the guys will figure I'm shopping for a husband or son instead of trying to find something not terribly masculine that will fit my broad feet. I feel clunky and dumb for being so extravagantly sized.
The only place I feel comfortable? At home, with Chris. Because he loves me for the things that society says are awkward. I think one simple story will illustrate this--some of you may already know it.
Once, when we were first married, Chris said, "I love your hands."
"My hands?" I asked, in some surprise.
"Yes," he said, dreamily. "They're like...mechanic's hands."
Well, they are like mechanic's hands. And while I do rather wish that one morning I'd wake up at 5'6" and 140 lbs., with demure feet and hands...if I have to be proportioned the way I am, I am ever so thankful to be married to someone who loves me for it.
