3 Pounds Over Asking
I’ve gained three pounds.
With the stress of learning a new job, my lifestyle has become more sedentary and my need for treats has increased. It's totally normal, and yet I'm paranoid about people noticing.
As if anyone is keeping closer tabs on my body than I am...
Am I Regina George?
Summer is only a few weeks away, and I feel like I'm preparing to stage an open house. My skimpy dresses and bikinis are staring from my closet, screaming at me to try them on, assess my body, and decide how much I'm worth.
Do I need a lot of staging? Am I ready for people to see this much of me? Will they think I'm overvaluing myself?
Back on the Market
If you couldn’t tell by the housing references, Selling Sunset is back. Each season there’s less face movement, sharper shoulder bones, and more ridiculous drama than the last. I burn through episodes with two parts disgust and one part jealousy.
There’s something self-hating about watching beautiful women flaunt designer clothes in multi-million dollar homes. Seeing Chrishell squeeze through a doggy door while I shove M&Ms down my throat inspires nothing but shame.
Since the start of this season, I have found myself checking the mirror more. I’ve Googled the cost of Botox, ordered a few “Slutty Barbie” inspired outfits, busted out my hair extensions, and have been hyper-aware of my weight.
The Oppenheim Group isn’t to blame for my insecurities, but they most definitely aren’t helping. They're doubling down on the narrative that “you can have it all.” It's possible to earn millions, be a size 2, and be a mom. All you need is hard work and a good plastic surgeon.
Like most people, I watch trashy television to forget about my day. I like to make fun of the petty drama and disappear into over-produced storylines about who will leave the brokerage. Similarly, fashion trends are using nostalgia as their own form of escapism. Now that we're moving past the pandemic, people are ready to throw on a new pair of shoes and hit the town. The resurgence of baby tees, trucker hats, and whale tales is meant to bring us back to a more “carefree” time when clubbing was the height of culture.
Y2K is back to hit us one more time.
The more low-rise jeans and microminis come back in style, the more I’m reminded of the ultimate 2000s fashion necessity – being skinny. It was an era that thrived on exclusivity. The trends were built to rule out body types that had any kind of belly fat. You were either hot or not.
I was not.
Nothing about 2000s style was freeing for me. Instead, that nostalgia is bringing me right back to a place of intense comparison. Between LA real estate agents and TikTok fashion influencers, I’m spiralling into old feelings of being ugly and unworthy. I feel like I woke up in a past hellscape where Victoria's Secret Angles are the dream and America Ferrera is fat - truly, unspeakably, disgustingly fat.
Who wants to go back to that?
2000s magazines
Revenge Body
As a twelve-year-old, I was strong. I did nine hours of gymnastics a week, and, although I was the weakest in my group, I had muscular thighs that I thought were powerful. At the height of my preteen confidence, I cropped my hair into a pixie cut thinking I’d look just like the girls on America’s Next Top Model.
I didn’t.
When I quit gymnastics, I didn’t know how to keep myself in shape. My strong thighs turned soft and squishy, and I became obsessed with cellulite. Every magazine cover in the aughts had close-up images of “cottage cheese” spattering famous women’s legs. I felt gross and ashamed that ever lost my muscle tone.
By the end of high school, I was counting to 1000 calories a day. If I went over, I’d berate myself and aim for even less. I shrunk down to my smallest weight, but I never was satisfied. My friends were naturally petite with no hips and no jiggle. I saw girls on Tumblr flaunting their thigh gaps, models on TV gracefully jogging on treadmills, pop stars posing naked.
Even at my smallest, I didn’t look like that.
Diets can turn sour quickly. As many as 25% of people who start a “normal” diet end up developing disordered eating. My calorie counting became problematic, and there were days I tried to teach myself to purge. I felt like a failure for being simultaneously too big, and not having the “willpower” to commit to my diet. I never understood that celebrities were railing cocaine and refusing to eat. I thought my lack of discipline was the reason I couldn't wear the same crop tops.
In university, I leaned into an aesthetic that, fortunately for me, was being popularized by the Kardashians. No longer was I beholden to the low-rise pants and stomach-highlighting fashion. Curves were in style, and I finally felt sexy.
Cellulite was still a problem. I curry combed my legs like a horse, smothered them in caffeine, and wrapped them in saran wrap at night. When that didn't work, I resorted to photo editing and abolishing shorts from my wardrobe. I figured that was as close as I would ever get to feeling confident.
My “fitness journey” really took off when I started my career. When the drinking slowed down and stability came back into my schedule, I took solace in the gym. In the last five years, my whole body has changed. What was squishy has once again become strong, and sometimes I barely recognize myself. Every time I go home for the holidays, one of my grandmothers will compliment my figure.
Today, I’m at my lowest weight since high school, way healthier, and somehow just as stressed about it as I was as a teenager. While I'm proud of my body, I’m equally horrified about going backward. I’ve had a taste of being skinny(ish), and the kid in me is afraid to lose it. Three pounds is enough to have me panicking.
This is a common phenomenon. When someone’s weight loss is positively reinforced, they become more insecure about gaining it back. I'm convinced that everyone will notice my body changes, good or bad. I'm dreading the day I visit family and no one tells me I look like a "skinny minnie."
Now that the fashion of my youth is back, it feels like my chance at redemption. I was too big, too young, and too insecure when Y2K first started, but now I’m in the best shape of my life. I can be hot this time...as long as I don’t let the diet slip.
This is my revenge body.
Don’t lie. We’ve all said this one…
Mini Pop Kids
The major difference between now and the 2000s is diversity. The kids bringing back Y2K fashion have grown up with body positivity; however, that doesn’t mean they’re equipped to handle these trends either. In fact, about half of teenage girls and a quarter of teen boys already don’t like their bodies.
I watch stars like Lizzo and feel immense gratitude. I wonder if seeing bodies like hers earlier would have eased my stress.
That said, there’s a big difference between celebrating body positivity and accepting changes in your own physique. I have internalized a need to be as small as possible, and, despite the curvy examples around me, I’ve given myself a specific standard of what I think is acceptable.
As much as there may be more examples of beauty celebrated today, there are also more ways in which you aren’t measuring up. Having curves isn't the same as looking like Lizzo or a Kardashian. There is always something to be insecure about and want to change.
We all have complex relationships with our looks, and we start forming them around the same time we learn to read. In 2011, 40-60% of girls aged 6-12 were concerned about their weight.
There are advantages the new generation has that we didn’t. For example, the ability to shop from home instead of at the mall. Never again do children have to deal with the humiliation of trying on clothes in stores that have mirrors on the outside of the change room door. Moreover, the options they have are endless. It's a new era where kids can pick and choose the parts of the Y2K aesthetic that suit their confidence.
As much as the internet is freeing, it also breeds more horrific comparisons. There’s a strong link between eating disorders and social media use, which is something we never had to contend with.
Now kids don't only worry about how Christina Aguilera looks in a mini skirt, but also how Christina from math class does.
I’m definitely Regina George…
In Escrow
There is a fine line between working to love your body and working on your body.
While I’m proud of the change I’ve seen in my figure, I don’t know how much I’ve grown internally. Could I be happy if I gained it all back and more? As a believer in body positivity, I want to believe I could be. As someone who’s been on various diets since she was 15, probably not.
The resurgence of Y2K fashion is a chance to do things differently. As desperately as I want to look cute in a micro mini and scarf top, the real redemption would be having a change in attitude.
This time around, I want to feel empowered to choose (or ignore) low-rise pants. I don’t want to force myself into them. I am working to look at my body as a turnkey property, without pointing to places I want to renovate or what could add value.
I am proving to myself that I'm worth three pounds over asking.
