The ‘Skinny’ on Being Skinny

By: Onika Nkrumah

The author describes her body image issues.

You’ve read countless stories about women fighting the battle of the bulge.  However, almost no stories have been told about the women like myself.  The women, for whom the inverse of the fat story is true.  I’m talking about skinny women – women who by our genetic make-up are skinny.  So I’m about to give you the ‘skinny’ on being skinny.

There are those of us who were born skinny, (I make it sound like some sort of birth defect because that’s what it feels like sometimes), and have not been able to gain any considerable weight or curves over the years.  We are grown women that have had to suffer the indignity of not being taken seriously, because of our weight. 

I have infuriatingly been referred to as “girlie”, “tally”, “smallie” and “young lady”, all because my size belies my maturity.  What is there to complain about, you might ask?  After all, millions of women would give their ‘eyeteeth’ and for that matter, their left feet to look younger and be a size two for the rest of their lives.  But you try living in this body; experience that shrinking feeling when some people talk over your head as if you were so skinny as to be invisible.  Try being passed over for a plum position because its assumed that your contribution, either in size or substance, would not be ‘weighty’ enough.  Then try seeing the man you were eyeing across the room, saunter right past you to talk to your unattractive but ‘thick’ pal.  I mean doesn’t a cute face count for anything these days?! 

You try being 30 and looking 20, if you think there are only happy consequences to this, then you are mistaken.  Once on a vacation in the U.S, I was even asked to present my identification at a 711, before I could purchase an alcoholic beverage.  I get no respect! 

Growing up skinny is particularly difficult for the black woman; our culture does not support it.  Since it is seen as the norm for most black women to have ample curves and ‘arse’, then ‘small-island’ logic dictates that a skinny black woman must be somehow lacking.  White girls, and those aspiring to be like them, are saturated with glossy magazine images of skinny models like Gisele Bundchen and Kate Moss and so they strive towards that ideal.  What do we black girls have? –  A never-ending procession of hyper-mammiferous, big- bootied, over-developed divas á la BET and MTV. 

Faced with this onslaught, many black girls, if they don’t have it naturally of course, aspire to having a big behind.  God, I am convinced, plays really silly games with us mortals.  To think that if He’d just put some flesh over my coccyx instead of under it, I could have had some junk in my trunk!  Shake what my mama gave me? – I’ve got other talents, thank you!

It has gotten so ridiculous now that even some clearly overweight and decidedly un-shapely women, with only their weight to recommend them, have taken to acting superior to skinny women, as if to say “you’re only half the woman that I am”. 

O.k, maybe I’m over-analyzing.  Perhaps, this ‘skinny’ ambivalence I’m feeling is just a figment of my imagination.  But I have had unsolicited comments from both male and female about my physique – from “skinny girl” to “ girl, you not putting on any meat on your bones, eh?” 

Bony, thin-thin, thin-bony, lingay, maaga (a lovely distortion of the word, meager) are all creative adjectives in the Trini lexicon used to describe the skinny.  As a matter of fact, ‘skinny’ to me is just as offensive a description as the word ‘fat’.  I prefer to be described as slim or slender – much more elegant and befitting of my status, don’t you think? 

During my teenage years, all I wanted to do was fit in – I think I developed a feeling of inadequacy because of my weight or should that be underweight.  Every skinny woman knows the absurdity of trying to look bigger by wearing two sets of jeans in this tropical heat!  Every skinny woman has self-prescribed birth control pills because one of the listed possible side effects is weight gain.  Every skinny woman has bought Periactin tablets or Ensure high protein milk shake, solely in the hopes of gaining a few extra pounds.  Every skinny woman knows the drill of religiously visiting the pharmacy and putting a ‘bob’, into the scale to check on weight gain progress.   In Jamaica, some desperate women even resort to eating chicken feed, full of chemical stabilizers, to blow themselves up quickly.  I guess ‘chickenhead’ is, as ‘chickenhead’ does.

Nowadays, if one can afford it one can get butt implants, if you’re financially challenged there is the false ‘bamsee’ sold in select stores. 

But seriously, it can be a pretty joyless existence if all of one’s behaviors are dictated by one’s weight.  Growing up skinny affected my personality to the point where I became a wallflower and tried to remain unobtrusive in social situations.  I became shy because I thought that people were forever judging my appearance – as if being skinny were somehow an indictment of my character, my humanity.  As I grew older, I learned to protect myself from unwanted jibes with a fierce comeback and an attitude that could rival that of any ghetto ‘Shenene’.

One day I had a ‘lifetime’ moment, it was akin to Moses receiving the Ten Commandments.  My epiphany, came without fanfare; on a day like any other.  Things became crystal clear - how could I have been so blind?!

I am difficult.  I am argumentative.  I am emotional, moody, intelligent, loving, loyal, ambitious, strong and I AM SKINNY.  These are the complexities that make me who I am.  And if all a person can see when they look at me is ‘skinny’, then they must be stupid, shallow and maybe even senile. 

I have learnt to accept and love the body that I’ve been given.  It’s been a struggle but I realize now more than ever that I have been blessed to have a fast metabolism, especially when I see schoolmates, who haven’t aged too well or gym ‘jumbies’, who can’t afford to miss a day at the gym.

I am blessed because I can throw on a pair of Levi’s and a ‘wife-beater’ and walk onto any fashion runway in Milan, Paris or London.  I am blessed because my tall, slim body type resembles that of the noble people of my ancestry in the lands of Ethiopia, Senegal and Sudan. 

I realize that I am my own worst critic.  I’ve stopped obsessing and now I count my blessings because I am witty, talented, compassionate and loved.  I realize now that my ‘skinniness’ does not define who I am – for my contribution is FAT

and my life’s purpose is overweight with promise!