I'm a 10.

Who gets to decide what normal is and is not? Who makes the rules about jeans sizes and the difference between S/M/L? I think maybe the problem is - there's not one person who maintains the reigns on the rampant disproportions in sizing. The other problem is, women tend to identify themselves by their jeans size - at least in our own heads. Instead of thinking "I'm creative" or "I'm funny" or "I can cook a mean lasagna" I often find myself thinking "I'm a 10".
I've worked very hard for the past few years, very hard in fact, to feel good about my size (whatever it happened to be at the moment). To be honest with myself about my body and its good parts and not-so-good parts. It's important to me to feel good in my own skin, whether or not that skin is considered by pop culture to be fat or thin. I don't want my life to be ruled by a constant fear of gaining five pounds or the constant guilt to lose five pounds. Instead, I want to love my fiance and my family and my friends. I want to figure out how to passionately pursue God with my life. I want to be good at what I do, I want to be a better writer. Eventually I want to be a great mom. I don't want the size of my jeans to even be a thought to think - because there are more important things.
So lately I think I've had a great and healthy attitude about my body. I think I've been able to view it honestly - mostly because of my amazing Ryan and his ability to help me see past myself. God gave me great arms and a thin waist. I have a nice nose and pretty eyes. I have nice feet. I have adequate breasts and an ample rear view. My thighs are rounder than I'd like them to be. I have tiny wrists. I'm a 10.
I say all of this, because last night I was humiliated in a way I never have been in my life. And it wasn't anyone's fault. No one was mean, no one laughed at me. AJ and I were asked to be part of a fashion show during GMA. We both thought it would be fun so we said yes, sure, we'll be models (all the while giggling about saying "yes, sure, we'll be models). Last night we went to the fitting at the store sponsoring the event. I walked in wearing size 10 jeans and a size M shirt from The Gap. I left feeling one burrito away from Lane Bryant. AJ and I shared a dressing room, while a guy brought us various things to try on. The first pair of jeans he brought me, I couldn't get past my knees. The second pair was worse. After the fifth pair (and one of the largest sizes the store carried), I started to cry in the dressing room (while wearing an L shirt that was so tight you could see my hair follicles). So I politely excused myself and ran out with Ryan in tow.
Then I cried all night.
I was humiliated and embarrassed. I felt like everyone was whispering, "what are we going to do about the fat girl in dressing room 1?" And maybe they weren't. Maybe they didn't realize what was going on. Maybe the guy who said to me, "don't worry, we'll find something that will fit you" didn't mean to make me feel like a side-show attraction.
And here's the truth. I am not fat. In fact, I am below average. Yes, I could stand to lose a few pounds and I could be in better shape. Yes, there are people out there (and close to me) who think I am fat. Yes, there are people out there (and close to me) who think I'm thin. Yes, in some stores I wear a 10, and in some stores I can't get a size 10 past my knees.
I'm not sure how to end this. I just wanted to write something that says - IT DOESN'T MATTER WHAT SIZE YOU WEAR. I have friends who wear enviable sizes but are empty and hollow. I have friends who wear sizes larger than me, that are gorgeous and talented and amazing in every way. I guess I wish there wasn't a stigma to be thin. I wish I truly meant what I said when I wrote "there are more important things".