Last month I read a brilliant post by Charlotte about women’s clothing—specifically the size zero—and the negativity resulting from trying to fit a certain size. I’ve long felt the same way she does, so I thought I’d share my two cents on the subject.

I’ve always been a petite person (except maybe in kindergarten, where I actually stood on the back row during our class performances). I’d say my size is almost entirely due to genetics, although being extremely active as a child and trying to eat well contributed, too.

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I don’t want to share numbers, but I will say my BMI falls within the “normal” range. I haven’t had my body fat measured since high school P.E., but I’d say it’s fairly (but not unhealthily) low. I’m muscular, strong, and somewhat shapely for my small frame (I’m particularly fond of “the girls,” even if yoga is causing them to shrink!). I eat whenever I’m hungry, I don’t deny myself “treats,” I have a regular period (perhaps TMI, but I’m surprised at the number of bloggers who have suffered from amenorrhea—many of whom have no history of eating disorders but simply have low body fat and are extremely athletic), and I’m full of energy.

So why then do I feel like something is wrong with me physically every single time I try on clothes in the fitting room? Why do I feel diminutive and less of a person whenever even my size zero pants are sagging off my waist?

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I absolutely hate the existence of size zero. I sympathize with women (and men) of all shapes and sizes who struggle with body image, weight and health, but at the same time, those of us who are reminded of how damn-near-invisible we are or how we literally wear a “size nothing” struggle in a different, yet related, way.

I’m almost 30 years old, and yet I often shop in the same stores and departments as teenagers! It’s one thing to be told you “look young” or could “fit right in” with college students (I’ll graciously accept those as compliments), but it’s entirely another to be told you look like a 16-year-old or asked if you’re going trick-or-treating for Halloween (both actually happened to me last year—and came from 2 different people).

With so many different media screaming at us to look a certain way and shoving images of perfectly tanned/airbrushed bodies, miracle diet drugs, and new cosmetic procedures in our faces every minute of every day, is it any wonder that so many women struggle with body image? (I’ll save the “What happened to the goals of the feminist movement?” rant for another day.)

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We’re so much more than a size! I’ve never been one to care about fitting in a certain size (I simply care about the fit and whether it flatters my own figure), but doesn’t it bother you that thousands of women are starving themselves, exercising to the point of true exhaustion, and otherwise abusing (emotionally and physically) themselves just to fit in some arbitrary size that the fashion industry has deemed “perfect?” (Never mind that standard sizing has changed dramatically over the past few decades; a size 8 in the 1950s is more like a 2 today—who knows what it will be in 10 more years!)

It’s maddening!

Merriam-Webster defines zero in the following ways:

Are you kidding me? Who wants to be “an insignificant person” or a “nonentity?” Why would somebody aspire to “a state of total absence” or “the lowest point?” What does this say about our psychological well-being?

We are so much more than nothing. We should not strive to be invisible because we are beautiful, intelligent, talented, irreplaceable individuals regardless of the digits sewn to the inside of our pants!

I would absolutely love to see women’s clothing shift to a European or men’s style of labeling (waist circumference for pants/skirts, for instance) or completely do away with size zero (oh, and double-zero—it actually exists!). I’m not sure that will ever happen, so in the meantime, I’ll try my hardest to turn my attention away from the size.

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Numbers do not define me. I’m not skinny (another loathsome word that means “resembling skin,” “lacking sufficient flesh or significance,” I kid you not). I’m not a child. I’m not a miniature version of a human. I’m fit, healthy, and strong. I refuse to be invisible and insignificant.

I’m much, much more than nothing, and so are you.