Pink is proud of her body.
Not in a “Hey, check out my incredible weight-loss results” way, or a posting-of-Instagram-six-pack-selfies kind of a way either. But of course, if she did any of that, it would be totally cool, too. Pink is boldly and fearlessly embracing her healthy, strong, squishy-in-the-middle, doesn’t-always-look-like-a-model physique, putting a little black dress on it, and feeling beautiful. Despite the outpouring of nasty comments that come as a result of any woman in the public eye who dares to feel pretty, or fit, or proud in anything other than a size zero dress.
This past Saturday night, the loud and proud mom of one got dressed up to attend a cancer benefit in an ankle-length, cinched-waist black dress. A waist that is not the tiniest one we’ve seen in Hollywood, but is healthy and proportionate and expertly fitted to the dress. The dress that revealed moderate cleavage (my A cups are jealous, but they’ll get over it) and solid arms. Arms that hold up her body as she performs acrobatics at concerts. Arms that one day not too long ago held a tiny baby, protecting her from the world. Arms that today are probably tired, just like yours or mine, from lugging a mom-bag big enough to house all the various and sundry items that mom-bags are expected to house.
It’s beside the point that, in my opinion, Pink looked fabulous in the LBD. She even admits it didn’t photograph on the carpet “as well as it did in my kitchen.” The point is that the onslaught of negative criticism and cyber bullying that resulted from Pink’s appearance is just disgusting. Body-shaming in any regard is unfair. We need to be lifting each other up here, mamas. Making each other feel what we all really are — beautiful.
Here’s her gorgeous, screen-grabbed Twitter response to the haters:
I have a big date night coming up this weekend myself. My husband hasn’t seen me in a dress that’s neither maternity nor intended for nursing in almost a year. This morning I tried on about 950 (well, at least 15…) dresses, throwing them all in a heap after I’d deemed myself too fat, too tall, too flat-chested, or too whatever for each one. I’m lucky that the entire world won’t be watching as I head out on the town with my man this weekend for the big-deal date we’ve been planning for months. But no matter what anyone around me is thinking, it’s time for me to be more like Pink and throw the weight criticism out the window.
My curves are mine, some of them new. Many were bestowed upon me in return for the beautiful gift it was to carry a healthy child for nine months. I’m not a size zero and I’ll never be one. (If you are, that’s beautiful, too!). But I’m a size me. And I think I know just the dress I’ll be slipping into, after all. Right out from the bottom of the discarded heap. It’s black, too. Cinched at the waist. It doesn’t show much cleavage, because I haven’t gotten any. But I am perfectly fine, perfectly happy, and so ready to enjoy a night of feeling beautiful.