And then there’s freaks like me…
when I was 15, and I’m cutting the story short, a doctor’s nurse measured and weighed me, the doctor examined me without actually ever looking at me and without seeing me standing up at any time, then the doctor measured my wrist perimeter and declared that I needed to lose several pounds. I was to follow the same horrible diet my mother was on.
Then I stood up - and for the first time, he saw me. My hips. Spanish hips. Short legs. Tiny hands and feet, yes, but these hips “were made for birthing babies.” So, he said “waitaminute” and completed the measurements… he measured me all over, as if he was fitting me for a pantsuit. And then he stared at the numbers, stared at the tables of “normal measurements” and said “ok, according to these tables you’re a shapeless monster - no way, I got eyes!”
Tiny wrists, ankles and elbows. My torso is too long for my legs or my legs too short for my torso, your pick. And my hips definitely count as big. Yet a lot of males of my species find me more than moderately attractive, so either there’s something wrong with the tables or with the guys. My pick? It’s the tables that are wrong.