Blog in Review 2011: “I had [the fight] actually worth having.”

Becoming Empowered

I should explain something. As a girl in American culture, weight has sort of been an issue for me. I could argue up and down forwards and backwards that my health is my top concern, but I’m coming to terms with the fact that it’s not.

In September 2009, I had a health emergency. It was found, though wholly unrelated to the health emergency, that I was five six and one hundred and ninety pounds. Unhealthy. Doesn’t look very good on me. I only lost ten or fifteen pounds, but for a year, I felt pretty good. Not as small as I wanted to be, but sexy, rockin’ my own skin. Then I spent my semester off, mostly at home, without a bike or gym membership and increasingly worse asthma. Now I’m at one hundred and ninety five pounds (or I was at my last weigh-in, about a month ago).

I’ve been finding my confidence dwindling. I used to feel pretty, now I’ve felt fat in the face. I used to love dancing, now I feel out of shape and uncoordinated. All because I have a stomach that sticks out just a touch farther than my breasts.

So back to this posted entry. Were I not in a Starbucks, I’d probably cry at it a little. I completely forgot this even happened. HOW did I let myself forget doing such an incredible thing? I’ve been an activist since I was eighteen years old; I’ve spoken publicly in front of a hundred or even two hundred people; I’ve written top essays in less than three days; but standing up to a total creep in a stranger’s car in a city I don’t know? Proudest moment of my life.

And I remember for days after how Kay and Tina bragged and laughed about what I did. Quiet reserved Stefani was ready to kick that guy’s ass! She called him out and didn’t give a fuck!

I’ve been so deeply focused on my shell and the weight that’s expanded it, and it doesn’t fucking matter. I’d be the first to argue it for another girl, so it’s time to for myself. What matters is that I’m a fighter for my fellow human. What matters is I can stand in front of a crowd of people I don’t know and speak my voice and my experiences with confidence. What matters is my brain and my ability with words and facts.  And what matters is when I see a girl in a dangerous situation, I risk my own safety as an equally small and powerless female to get her out of it.

I should have pride in all of this. I should feel like calling attention to myself, not becoming invisible. I should feel powerful, not like I’ll be a victim again, any day now.

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~ by Stefani Vonne on 01/11/2012.

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