This narrative is from A, who never buys dresses that look amazing on her.
I’m a bodacious girl. It’s not my fault. I’m not fat, I’m just curvy. If I wasn’t a nice frum girl, I’d be considered lucky. Instead, I’m considered immodest. In school, my teachers would tell me that benos Yisroel don’t have bodies that scream “look at this!” As if my genes disqualified me from being a real bas Yisroel.
It’s not my fault that the baggiest button-down shirt doesn’t fit me like a tent. Actually, they do — they definitely fit me like a tent, but like a rather well-endowed, still curvy, and highly eye-catching tent.
Even though I don’t have an hourglass figure on purpose, everyone knows that I should be doing something about it. I’ve gotten everything from “Just layer and no one will know” (Which I do!) to “Have you ever thought of [reduction] surgery?…ya know…for tznius’ sake.”