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Are You There Self Esteem? It's Me, Margaret.


Hello dear reader. Welcome to the inside of my brain, very glad to have you around. If you find yourself here, that means you follow me on Instagram, or maybe you also lift weights and don't possess a body type that is of the 'I-count-out-my-almonds-and-weigh-my-spinach-and-do-3-spin-classes-every-day' variety, or maybe you just find my discomfort with the human populace highly entertaining and want to know more. If it's the latter option for you, I truly am so glad my social ineptitude and people's general stupidity are sources of joy for you. It's the little things in life, right?


As someone with an abnormal body type, my experiences with the general public frequently end in me thinking to myself one of the following:

- "Wow, that was SO fucking uncomfortable."

- "Why did that just have to happen to me?"

- "The lack of self awareness in people is truly astounding."


Some topics you can look forward to reading about in the future:

-Words that can easily be used to describe livestock animals but were actually used to describe me

-Random men at Costco who feel they have the right to comment on the appearance of my body (I swear there are least 5 separate instances)

-What happens to the state of my mental health when I go shopping for a pair of jeans

-Grocery store experiences in general (I'm sorry, my bill is HOW much?)

-How I choose to describe myself on my dating profile

-That one time a woman thought my arms look the way they do because I spend a lot of time... paddle boarding.


 

I would like to formally introduce myself as a Muscular Woman. Just last week, someone called me JJ Watt in a passing comment (I had to hold myself back from kissing them because that is single handedly the *best* compliment I've ever received). In an entirely separate conversation, I was told by another friend that if we were dying and stranded in the wilderness that they would be able to survive off of just my arm meat for upwards of a week. My biceps are the same circumference as my skull, and if you look at my legs from just the right angle and squint a little bit, they appear to be the size of old growth Douglas Firs. I effectively look like Kronk from Emperor's New Groove, but with blonde hair and slightly smaller calves.


I went from weighing ten pounds directly out of my mother's womb to weighing 180 lbs my entire adult life. There was never actually a 62 or a 117 or a 156 lb Margaret, simply a bowling ball of a toddler with multiple inner thigh rolls who experienced a growth spurt and then was suddenly an adult with a 40 inch rib cage and the lung capacity of a whale. I can count the times the word 'delicate' has thus far been used to describe me on one hand; three to be exact, two of which have been about my pinky toe nail and the third was in reference to the voice I use to talk to cats.


 

I appreciate and love my Kronk-like stature, don't get me wrong, but I still very much enjoy coping with my lingering insecurities with a hefty dose of my own bullshit. But here's the thing, we millennials get to blame all of that bullshit on our 'past trauma'. It is unbelievably convenient. We can do something super fucked up and just say 'I'm working on that with my therapist" and nobody will question anything. If you don't have a therapist or you don't openly talk to strangers about what you talk about with your therapist... you are in the minority.


Oh, you just guilt-ran on the treadmill for two hours because you ate a singular brownie at lunch today because your mother called you a fat ass when you were twelve?

"I'm working on that with my therapist."


Oh, you just wrecked your brand new car and are probably definitely in shock but you went to the gym afterwards anyways and maxed out your front squat because you are too afraid of telling anyone and disappointing your family but the only way you feel worthy is by being stronger than everyone else?

"I'm working on that with my therapist."


Oh, you brought boiled chicken out on the boat with your friends and refuse to eat anything else and tell them YoU hAvE gOaLs but actually you are afraid of bloating while your stomach is exposed because you ate dried blueberries before swim practice once as a seven year old and your dad told you 'suck it in'?

"I'm working on that with my therapist."


The foundation of my own bullshit that I call upon frequently for self-justification is deeply rooted in going to the pediatrician's office each year and seeing what height and weight percentile I existed within compared to my peers in the same age group. Let me tell you something; that shit left some ~permanent fucking damage~. A developing and impressionable 8 year old brain does not need to know that the body it occupies is larger than 99% of the rest of the humans around it. The title of that book is called How To Give Your Kid Body Image Issues and Low Self Esteem For Their Entire Life.


Nowadays, when I go to the family doc for a check up and the inevitable eyebrow raise with a "Hmm, your weight is up since last time" comes my way, I get to yell, "SO IS MY ONE REP BACK SQUAT YOU BITCH."


I'm working on that with my therapist.

 

I still exist in that 99th percentile, and I am more than sure I can win a fight simply by laying on top of the other person and smothering them, but my brain is now fully developed and I can appreciate my stature much more and see the inherent value and privilege in being a Muscular Woman.

1) Eating a metric shit ton of food is totally normal and totally necessary.

2) Most of the time, I am the strongest person people know. Nothing gives me more joy than being called a unicorn.

3) Having a larger body is so much fun. We are unbreakable! Sturdy Bitches unite!

4) Men very, very, very rarely tell me to smile or cat-call me on the street because I look like I will absolutely fuck them UP.

5) It provides me with endless stories to dramatize and regale to you all.

 

Along with being a Sturdy Bitch, I am also a very Busy Bitch because I just moved to a new city and need to actually go do things with my life. I will do my very best to entertain you as frequently as I can, and I have zero doubt that my new location in the world will provide me with many more things to report.


So until next time, go lift some heavy things and don't forget to eat your food.

Love,

Margaret


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Emily Lucas
Emily Lucas
Jul 31, 2021

I LOVED this SO MUCH. Definitely sharing with my therapist!

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