It was my first day on a vacation to San Francisco, and I was rummaging through a $5 basket in the corner of a funky clothing store on Market Street. This kind of activity rarely rewards me with any treasures, everything is usually the wrong size or hideous or some combination of both, but today I had hope.

I dug in deep and came up with something baby blue and distinctly looking very cute shirt-like. I checked the tag, size: small. Perfect. I asked the sales girl if I could try it on.

"Sure," she said, "but I wouldn't bother. It's so small it doesn't ever fit anybody."

I took it to the change room anyway, like I said, today I had hope. It fit, it was cute, I marched on up to the cash. I waited for my friend Lisa to finish paying for a hat, and I plopped it down on the counter.

The sales girl looked at me with such a sense of disbelief that I thought I might have grown a second head in the change room. "Oh my gawd!" she exclaimed. "That didn't actually fit you did it?"

"Yah,"I replied sheepishly.

"Wow, so do you have some kind of an illness or something?"

At this point Lisa, thankfully, butted in. "Yah well, don't worry, I mean she eats and stuff. If that's what you mean? Well, I mean she does throw up afterward and she has this compulsive exercising habit and all. But, we've asked her about it and she says she has it all under control."

The sales girl was stunned, silent and clearly uncomfortable.

Lisa and I managed to keep straight faces for all of maybe sixty seconds before bursting into laughter. I put down my five American dollars and we walked out, leaving one very confused sales girl behind.

Now before you get offended, the point of that story was not to make fun or light of eating disorders. I find no humour in eating disorders. No, the point of that little tale was simply to point out some of the ridiculous things people feel licensed to say to my lanky self.

Please understand that I write this while being fully aware of the privilege that thinness affords in our culture. Painfully aware. I don't have difficulty finding cool clothes that fit me. I was able to shamelessly, in spite of hindsight's better judgement, wear crop tops a few years back. I don't know what it is to worry about cheesecake's relationship to my hips. Go ahead; hate me if you need to. Trust me, people have for those very reasons. Still, being a naturally skinny person isn't a get out of jail free card when it comes to body issues either.

As I said, I am naturally skinny. My mother is a tiny thin woman. My dad is tall and lanky as the day is long. Ditto for my sister. This is my genetic predisposition. It's not going to change.

Though I am thin, and society clearly values thinness in the images which fill the media, rest assured that I don't really see women who look like me in the media too often either. Granted, they may come closer than they do for some - but still it's not what I see in the mirror. I've got stretch marks from where my hips expanded rapidly when I went on the pill; there's a fair bit of cellulite back there; I jiggle in many of the wrong places; my modest breasts fall into my armpits when I lay on my back. Yes that's right, I'm pretty much a real live woman. You don't see many "real" live women on billboards. And at 24 years old I can say that overall I'm pretty comfortable with my body (well from the neck down anyway, but that's another issue).

So I am fortunate to have the currently socially acceptable build. Yes I am. What I don't get is why this seems to give people - both strangers and friends - license to speak about my body at whim. That story back there was one example. It happens all the time. For years I worked as a waitress and for whatever reason I have always had customers who felt entitled to comment on my frame.

It would usually go something like this:
Me: "Good evening. How is everyone? Can I bring you a drink while you look at the menu?"
Pause as customer looks me up and down.
Customer: "Yah, a drink. Wow, you're really skinny hey?"
Me: "Ah, yes I guess I am. Can I get you a drink?"
Customer: "Sure, yes, I'll have a glass of the Shiraz. I mean you're really quite skinny hey?"

This kind of game, which I like to call "Stating the Obvious," would usually go on until I thank the person for what they see as a compliment. Personally, I consider "great shoes" to be a compliment. We are really a pretty screwed up society if we consider "You're really skinny" to be the highest form of flattery we can bestow upon a stranger.

What makes people feel that they have the right to comment on your body like that? I know this is an age-old question with many more facets, particularly for women. But try as I may, I just don't understand it. Culturally valued aesthetic or not, I consider it to be just plain rude. And trust me, it doesn't feel so great either.

Now it would seem that I have not always been so comfortable with my size and shape. Recently I undertook the exercise of rereading old diaries and journals from my youth. I was stunned to come across this entry:

March 13th, 1994:
Measurements:
chest 32 ½ "
waist 26"
hips 32"

By July 1st:
Waist: 25"

I was terrified when I read that. I had forgotten completely about those days. Forgotten about the period when I assumed that thinner was always better, no matter what size you started at. When I felt so out of control in other aspects of my life that I sought to control my body as much as possible. In fact, it would seem that I also used to think that it would make me happier. And I quote:
"Only 5 more weeks till summer. I am determined to have an awesome summer! As soon as I lose all the cookies off my stomach."

"What cookies?!?" I screamed back at my 18 year old self. Believe it or not, I considered myself an ardent feminist, even back in those days. Sadly I'm not able to report how the waistline story turned out, as by all further entries I spent the summer too drunk to remember that goal by July.

I look at that entry now and such an intense feeling of frustration well up inside me. What would it take to make all the healthy young girls and women of North America comfortable with their shapes? For starters try looking for body image workshops for women with socially "normal" bodies. As a general rule there are none. With a few notable exceptions whenever I raise the issue of low self-esteem or body image with people they think I am just trying to garner attention for what they see as an enviable body.

The other major hurdle of course is the media. While I am a critical consumer of media images, a feminist and all that, I can't pretend that it doesn't affect me at all. I have noticed that after reading some trashy fashion magazine my self-esteem always takes a nosedive. And the possibility of seeing natural, normal women plastered across glossy covers is pretty minimal. For myself I just try to avoid mainstream fashion magazines like the plague, but the sick fascination eventually draws me in. And I buy alternative women's magazines as often as possible in hopes of supporting them into the realm of being perceived as mainstream.

But until the day that healthy women of all shapes and sizes can see their own images celebrated, I try to do what I can. I never ever tell friends that their outfits make them look thinner. I always tell them when I think they are looking particularly foxy. I make a habit of complimenting strangers on their radiance or their excellent style.