The Snack Aisle

 Last weekend, Beloved Husband and I took a trip to the big box store to buy mass quantities of various things. As we roamed back and forth, we encountered a brief people-traffic jam in one of the snack food aisles: there was a group of three people toward one end, and one of them, a young (no more than 25, likely younger) woman, was momentarily standing in the middle of the aisle since had not noticed the people trying to slide past. She did eventually become aware of all of us and stepped out of the way so everyone could move forward. 

As we cleared the snack aisle, I heard a man who had just passed through that aisle say to the woman he was with, "she shouldn't be in the snack aisle." It was a clear reference to the weight of the young woman who had momentarily blocked traffic.

Oh, no. So much no.

I wanted to shout: WE DO NOT COMMENT ON OTHER PEOPLE'S BODIES. I was not comfortable shouting about manners in the big box store, though. Not ready to make a fuss, especially since the young woman (likely) did not hear the statement. Let it go.

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To hear such a flippant criticism of a stranger's body was both shocking and totally unsurprising. Society has conditioned everyone to think that women, especially young women, should be thin; if they are not slim, it means they are lazy, slovenly, excessively-snack-y, and that strangers -- especially men -- are entitled to comment on it, to 'call them out', to make sure they and everyone else around them are all aware that the woman has failed to meet societal standards. 

What does it matter? People are entitled to exist, to be in public places, to live regardless of their body size. Body size is not a moral issue. Fat is morally neutral. 

Also: this young woman was of middle size -- my size, perhaps. And, like that young woman no doubt, I am painfully aware that I do not meet societal expectations of thinness and beauty. Should I just not go out? Why should I feel as though I have to justify my existence in this particular body? Or as though I have to render myself smaller, more invisible, somehow less in order to just be? 

During the drive to the big box store, I had explained to Beloved Husband how I always feel bad about myself when I talk with an absolutely lovely woman I know about her marathon running. Not because she is braggy -- to the contrary, she is humble about her achievements and ever-encouraging to others -- but because I feel as though I could do more, be better. Which translates to, be thinner in my head. 

And then, there was the snack food aisle woman situation. And I understood a little better why I feel the way I do: we cannot escape the judgement of others. Even in the big box store. 

I will probably always be somewhat overweight. I will never be conventionally attractive, especially now that I have reached the mature age of 55. I will have to adjust accordingly: accept myself, and take no bullshit from strangers, if it is directed at me. 

Onward we go.