I’m A Goddess. So Are You. Why Can’t We Accept Our Bodies As-Is?
A trip to Italy reveals more than dramatic architecture and sublime pasta
Dreams of Italy should be dominated by breathtaking vistas over azure blue waters, strolls down quaint, narrow streets and spaghetti carbonara. Thoughts of personal failure, “fat” clothes, or cellulite shouldn’t hijack them.
My family’s 2019 trip to Italy started years before, when my family agreed to host an exchange student from Italy. The experience was wonderful, and we stayed in touch with the girl from Milan that we now consider a daughter. Her parents graciously agreed to take us on a whirlwind tour of Italy, starting in Milan, through Portofino to Venice, then Siena and ending at the shores of Lago Maggiore in Piemonte.
As is my custom before any trip, anxiety about my weight began months before the trip on the floor of my closet.
Choosing travel clothes that don’t make me look fat, (I think)
I’ve struggled my entire life with maintaining a healthy weight that made me feel comfortable. I’ve rarely been thin enough to fit into the “standard” U.S. women’s sizes of 0–14, but I’m also not auditioning for a stint on My 600-lb. Life.
Once the Italy trip was confirmed, I fretted over my wardrobe. It was summer — it would be hot. Do I own any flattering dresses? No. Any shorts that aren’t too tight, too short or too matronly? No. Do they sell Spanx in Italy? Who knows?
My trip began in Milan, the world of impossibly thin runway models. It was also the home base of our petite Italian exchange student and her confident mother who at 50 rocked the most micro of micro triangle bikinis at the MGM Grand Hotel pool in Vegas. Respect.
While packing for the trip and picturing how my large and tall body would fit in and look while sight-seeing in Italy, I settled on Big Bird, or Mr. Snuffleupagus from Sesame Street. To be fair, I more resemble Mrs. Snuffleupagus. But isn’t she just Mr. Snuffleupagus with a bow in her hair and a chunky necklace? (I would kill for those eyelashes though.)