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She was dead serious, as stern as if she were saying to a heart patient, “You have to quit smoking to save your life!” She looked me straight in the eye and said, “You have to give up white bread.” Then she sighed and added the ma’am.
This was after the COVID lockdown. I had put on weight because I was home all the time and not moving much. I actually still have those five kilos, the ones I was supposed to lose. They’re holding their ground. I’m still trying to shed them, but it’s not working.
The problem is that dieting often means cutting out pleasure—including white bread. And that means no more delicious Lebanese baked goods, no manakish, no shish barak, pizza, or hot, toasted sandwiches in this cold. We’d be keeping our bodies from savoring and enjoying food, only to fit ourselves into the image we want for ourselves—almost as if to fulfil the duty required of us as women. We continue living our lives in endless attempts to lose weight, but I’m not really sure any of this has to do with any true desire on our part to lose it. Are we really that bothered by those few extra kilos we put on this winter or that summer, or are we just trying to please someone else, maybe?
It’s a lot of pressure that women are under—all the time, not just for a month or a week—to try to prove that they can fit into the archetype of having a flat stomach, skinny legs, and smooth thighs. The problem is that, unbeknownst to us, we spend our entire lives trying, and when our feminism keeps us up at night, we blame it on having to improve our health. It’s almost like our very conscience is evil, insecure, and patriarchal, constantly reprimanding women and judging their shape and weight. It allows itself, every day, to open trials into women’s right to enjoy and love themselves as they are, in all their differences, diversity, and madness. One comment can ruin an entire day, and sometimes you think about it for even longer. You’ve gained weight, You look fatter, Stop eating, You’re fat like a cow, round like a barrel, You need to go on a diet, Work out.
The ideal shapes we want for ourselves are terrifying. Some women even use fat-dissolving injections, which may not be safe. Others work out obsessively, undergo serious surgeries, or follow unhealthy diets that are just based on depriving yourself. Deprivation only! You’ll only grow to hate and despise every burger, every cheese mankoushe you otherwise would have enjoyed in the company of your loved ones, the one you would’ve bought in a hurry before going to a boring meeting, stealing some fun.
My point is not to push people to burgers or any unhealthy food, but I do think about what we women might lose if we continue to submit to these strict rules that want us all to look the same, to have “perfect” bodies at all times, with no extra weight anywhere. Bodies that are not impacted by any psychological, health, or emotional issues, by economic conditions. My friends, imagine a world with no weight comments, no social rules that judge us by our stomachs or our hips. Imagine being able to enjoy yourselves freely; imagine deciding to cut down on fast food not out of fear of anyone, not to satisfy the Instagram machine for ideal bodies, but just because we want to, because we want to stay healthy!
