Back in the day, I was a size four. And standing at 5’ 10”, that made me what some might call a “skinny b*tch,” or at least that’s the term Meghan Trainor uses in her smash pop hit, All About that Bass.
There was a time I felt kind of sorry for poor, skinny me. I mean, it’s not like I didn’t eat. I did. I hammered down pizza, buffalo wings, ramen noodles, and vending machine candy like any good college student (all washed down with keg beer, of course). I remember walking through the mall one afternoon when a large banner outside Lane Bryant caught my eye: Real Women Have Curves. I felt a pang of self consciousness at the straps of my A-cup bra hanging over my skeletal clavicle.
Now? Ten years, two kids (plus one one the way) and 25 pounds later, I finally have some of that “junk” that Meghan refers to. But here’s the thing. I still don’t feel like it’s in “all the right places.” At least a good twenty pounds of that weight went straight to my thighs. Sigh.
I’ve got plenty of friends who’re claiming All About that Bass as their jam. And who can blame them? It’s catchy, it’s fresh, and gosh darn it, it’s nice to see women (and that one guy) with thicker-than-your-average-video-dancer frames getting down with their bad selves!
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