When I first got hired at the cinema, I bought a watch. It is from Target, and I purchased it for fifteen dollars. I chose white as it was a nice compliment to my uniform which is full of dark of tones.
We are not required to wear a watch, though it is highly recommended as we do not have any clocks in the building. Prior to receiving this job, I had never worn a watch, but now it has become an everyday occurrence. Wearing a watch has caused me to be less reliant on my cell phone. I love that.
Any who, let us delve back into the point of this post. There are seven holes in the watch to adjust based on the wrist size of the owner. The first time I wore the watch, my wrist fell between the two smallest fixations. I settled for the looser hole and thought nothing of it. However, as the summer progressed, my weight began to drop rapidly.
One night in the middle of August, I was dressing for work and began to strap on my watch. With many other issues on my mind, it had become a robotic movement. I simply wrapped the watch around my wrist and pulled tight to close it off.
As I was driving to work just a short while later, I came across a red light. My eyes fell down to my steering wheel to check the gas gauge when I suddenly noticed my watch.
It was on the smallest hole.
A sick sense of satisfaction had fallen over me. It was a marker for how successful my weight lost was. I was so proud of myself for having thin wrists.
Thin wrists meant I was beautiful.
Thin wrists meant I was one step closer to being perfect.
Thin wrists meant I was emaciated.
Thin wrists meant I was diseased.
Thin wrists meant I had the body of a child.
It has been five months since that night of the eery red light satisfaction. Everyday since then, I have still worn the watch. Up until today, my wrist had still managed to fit the ever-so-coveted smallest loop. But as I put on my work attire this afternoon, it hurt my wrist to fit the last hole. I stared at my wrist for a few minutes, contemplating my next action.
I could force my wrist to fit into the tighter hole, or I could allow myself to be comfortable with a looser watch.
I chose the latter.
I remember thinking that this would be it. The day I could not fit into the smallest hole of my watch would be the day I deemed myself fat. Well, that day has finally arrived, and truth be told, I do not care. I do not think I am fat in any sense of the word. I do not think I will be fat even if I have to go to the third smallest hole. My wrist size has absolutely no indication of my overall health.
But you know what does?
My genuine smile. That is an indicator of my overall health. My laugh. That is an indicator of my overall health. The hugs I give my mother. Those are indicators of my overall health.
No one else in the world will ever criticize me based on my wrist size. Therefore neither should I. It is incredible how the mean voices can control every aspect of life. Every so often, however, I learn how to take back my life, one body part at a time.
Today, I took my wrists back. I have beautiful wrists. I have beautiful arms. I have a beautiful body. I am beautiful.