First, let me dispel any commentary that may come from this post: I’m a skinny girl. I’m not bragging, I’m not trying to sound elitist. I just am. I have an incredible metabolism, I have disgustingly-great genes, and one trip to the gym produces muscles instantly. That’s the way it is. I’ve got other hang-ups, though, so calm down. (And for the record, growing up with hip bones that could slice through flesh, being called “bag of bones” by a teacher in front of my entire class, absorbing accusations of drug use–”crackhead” comes to mind, getting the side-eye when topics of eating disorders arise, and hearing “put some meat on your bones” every day of my life hasn’t been a joy. But I digress from the subject a bit….)

Ironically, “put some meat on your bones” is the last thing a vegan will do.

A vegan diet is great for cutting weight,  if done properly. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not trying to lose weight. But cutting dairy (saturated fat!) and other animal-derived fats keeps the pounds from accumulating, especially on someone who is admittedly lazy (uh, me).  Organic foods ensure that the food is fuel and the body is not trying to process anything it doesn’t need.  And so, I’m still a skinny girl.

And I still hear, “you’re so skinny!” all of the time. 

At Thanksgiving, Hubs grandmother:  ”You’ve lost some weight! Are you eating enough?”
When I walk out of the room, she quizzes Hubs on my eating habits and discusses it with family members. I’m touched that she’s concerned, but it would be easier if I could say, “it’s our diet,” without raised eyebrows.

At Christmas, Hubs maternal grandmother: “Now, you’ve lost some weight since we last saw ya. Are you eating enough?”

The humor in this is that these women lived during the Depression era, so they know skinny; one would think it wouldn’t faze them. Perhaps that’s why they’re concerned. You know:  recession, lack of funds, no food, skinny wives. You’ll note that my family’s comments aren’t mentioned here.  For one, they’ve seen me skinny since I was six years old (I was a FAT baby, though!). And two, they tend to talk behind my back. They’re Catholic. They’ll just confess for it later.

The point of all this, though, is that I’m not THAT skinny. I really believe that people are so used to seeing obesity that it has become the norm. A gal who’s a healthy size and weight looks emaciated. This thought  is proven when I buy clothing.  I am a thin person, but I have definitely developed since my high school years. I have hips now. I have chubby (in relation to the rest of my body) thighs.  But, mysteriously, I wear a SMALLER size in the same brands I wore in high school. This is not new information, but just try discussing it with women. They don’t like to admit that they might actually be bigger than the perceived number “8″ on their pants. It’s infuriating how people are aware that they’re being duped but care not so long as they can maintain their  lifestyle, though it may be destructive. This idea of “normal” is passed to younger generations, too.

Take a look at teenagers nowadays, or pre-teens, for that matter. These kids are BIG. If I see one more teenager-belly hanging over pants that are too tight, I *might* have to start handing out literature on the subject.  Since when are kids the fat ones? Youth used to be envied. Before I begin a diatribe on the obvious causes of youth obesity let me end by saying that skinny doesn’t mean sick. It is, in fact, more often the opposite. The movement in the ’90′s to combat anorexia and bulemia seems to have backfired. The idea of accepting one’s body for how it is never meant “eat more Entemann’s.” It has left health in the dust and “put some meat on your bones” the unspoken national anthem.