Skinny Minnie, Bones and Toothpick are just a few of the nicknames I’ve been assigned over the years.
I’ve always been thin and boney. My clavicles jut out, my chest and abdomen are mostly rib cage and I have what my family calls “chicken arms.”
Growing up I was a lanky kid, moving through life like a windmill of long appendages attached to pointy elbows and knees. Now, in my late 20s I’ve filled out a bit but am still naturally slim.
When I was younger I laughed off comments about my weight, knowing that I was still growing, but now they really bother me. Instead of being greeted with a typical “How are you?” when hugging friends hello, I often hear, “You’re skin and bones. You need to eat.” This statement insinuates that I don’t take care of myself. In my mind I reply, “You know I eat. All we do is eat when we hang out. My body hasn’t changed in the five years we’ve known each other.” Outwardly I smile and move on with other conversation. After all they don’t mean to offend me. But would these same friends instruct me to consume a few less calories a day if I was curvy? Definitely not. Read more…