“Real Women Have Curves” and Other Lies We’ve Been Told: My Journey to Loving My Body

How society’s obsession with body types almost broke me and the lessons I learned about self-worth.

There’s a moment of cruel irony in life when the shape of your body becomes more important than the essence of who you are. I learned this lesson painfully early, sitting in a seventh-grade cafeteria, staring at my thighs while my friends dissected their salads like surgeons. That day, a single finger poked my leg and unleashed a lifetime of doubt.

“I can tell,” one of them said, her words slicing deeper than any insult ever could.

From that moment, my body stopped being mine. It became a public spectacle, open to scrutiny and unsolicited opinions.

When Compliments Hurt More Than Insults

Years later, at an engagement dinner, I felt confident for the first time in a long time. I wore a tight dress that hugged my body, a symbol of my newfound self-acceptance.

“Do you even eat?” my friend asked, her tone a mix of curiosity and judgment.

Before I could respond, another friend chimed in: “Real women have curves.” His finger jabbed my hipbone for emphasis. The message was clear — in their eyes, my body wasn’t enough.