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My mother, God bless her and her genes, is the skinniest person I know, at least in her age range. Most Egyptian mothers, not to stereotype or anything, are slightly overweight. And when I say slightly, I mean they all have pear-shaped bodies. Basically the bottom of the hourglass measures to about quadruple (if not more) times the size of the top, and the top is fairly large as it is.

My mom, defying all odds, looks the same as she did back in High School, and that’s not an exaggeration by any means. She gave me an old picture of her that I really liked (despite the ridiculous amount of flowers on her shirt, she looked like a model) that she thought was taken after she graduated college.

Wrong. It said “HS Grad” on the back in her same loopy cursive handwriting that covers years of birthday cards I keep under my bed.

As the years go by, I notice that the people who complain about being overweight aren’t the ones that could definitely watch what they eat and hit the gym every once in a while. They’re the ones who are genetically programmed to look perfect their whole lives, people who like my mom are on the lower end of the “normal weight” scale.

Every type of clothing, no matter what decade the shoe or skirt should have been lost in, look good on her. She could eat just about anything and her pants might feel a bit snug a few weeks later, but only after eating four or five Thanksgiving meals with each branch of the extended family.

And then, after people who actually have to work to keep in shape finally reach a point they are reasonably comfortable at, she has the audacity to say that she needs to lose weight.

As if disappearing into oblivion is a good idea, maybe even attractive, too.

Clearly something has to change. People always blame the media and the beauty industry for how women look at themselves, but in the end, how I look at myself should be determined by me.

Sure, culture definitely has an effect; back in the day people thought that being overweight was an attractive thing. It was a sign of wealth – the fatter, the better must have been their motto.

But in the end, the individual has to figure out what they are comfortable with, if they look good with their cheekbones sticking out as though nothing else is holding them back, or if maybe, just maybe, they are perfectly fine as is.

But to all women, or even men – maybe I’m a bit sexist about this subject, please don’t complain if you are 5’4’’ and 110 pounds, it’s just straight-up annoying.