I'm a size 4. No, wait, my jeans today are a 6. Hold on, I wore size 8 yesterday. But I also own sizes 10, 12, and 14.
So, what does that make me?
My weight fluctuates no more than the average person. I stand tall somewhere between 140 and 170 pounds, which according to my handy-dandy BMI calculator, means I'm overweight and to my doctor, means I'm pre-diabetic. To the outside world (and some assh*le who commented on a recent article I wrote), I'm "fat."
Except I don't feel fat. I eat well enough, run in Central Park at least three times a week, spin every other day and go to power yoga classes. I don't even drink that much, which already makes me fitter than most of my quintessentially thin friends.
Yet, still, I'm “fat.” I have a body like Amy Schumer, and according to everyone except Glamour magazine, she's worlds away from plus-sized, or whatever term we now use to describe women above a size 4.
Schumer alternates between a size 6 or 8. I (usually) alternate between a size 6 or 8. According to my powers of deduction, that makes me plus-sized! That's awesome!
Except — wait for it — I'M NOT PLUS-SIZED, and neither is Amy!
So, where does this leave me? The plus-size women don't relate to me, and the skinny women don't either. Not to get all sappy here, but where do I belong?
No one knows how to market to women like me.
I'm not a size 14, which is considered plus-size in America. I'm also not a size negative two or whatever you have to be to be a model now. Basically, I belong in no camp, and that kind of blows.
Fancy people in suits know how to market to curvy women. They use chicks like Ashley Graham and Iskra Lawrence as their poster girls, and sprout phrases like “Love your body” and “Real women have curves." They use words like "fierce" and "badass."
These same people also know how to market to thin women by using words like “strong” and “disciplined” to describe the demographic they're after.
What about chicks like me? We're neither "fierce" nor "strong," so obviously we're only good at being paperweights or whatever you do with women who don't fit a particular mold.
You don't see average women in ads. You don't see them doing much of anything, really. You either identify with Karlie Kloss or Iskra Lawrence, or you don't identify with anyone at all.
Whatever. I identify with avocados, and that's all that matters.
I can never shop online, ever.
The suckiest thing about not having a "normal" body-type? Never being able to buy anything without seeing it and trying it on first.
My friends all buy things on sight, while I have to look up the sizing info, pray to five different gods and do some spiritual blood magic to get anything I buy online to even remotely fit me.
I know this doesn't seem like much of a problem, but it really blows when I just want to throw a chunk of my paycheck at Nasty Gal or ASOS and can't even properly do that because their sizing is always so batsh*t and I end up having to return everything.
Store associates also HATE me. Every time I go into a store, I always ask for two sizes of everything, just because my sizing is so unpredictable and I can be both a small and an extra large in the same outfit.
Amy Schumer, do you have to deal with this? Do store clerks always give you dirty looks when you request the small, medium AND large? Please advise.
My sex life isn't the butt of your joke.
Name the last time a woman over a size 4 was a romantic lead in a movie that wasn't a comedy.
If a woman who isn't ultra-thin manages to get laid and captivate the minds and d*cks of men, it has to be the butt of a joke! We can't suspend our disbelief for nearly long enough to believe someone like Amy, Mindy Kaling or Melissa McCarthy is sexy enough to be taken seriously as a romantic leading lady.
Good thing my sex life isn't just like the movies, then.
Look, it's confusing to be a woman today, but it's even more confusing when you're a woman whose body type is seen as such an oddity, we don't even have a word to describe it.
Which is why now, I propose a term for all us "normal-sized" girls out there: Avocado.
Because who doesn't want to be a 'cado?