Faith Health Healthy Living Inspiration Journal

To The Skinny Mom Buying Donuts

To the Skinny Mom Buying Donuts
Written by Avery Jennings

Dear Skinny Mama,

My baby is at least six months older than yours. I couldn’t help but notice you in the checkout line last week– your cart full of t.v. dinners and soda and a dozen gooey donuts I could smell from ten feet away. The infant tucked cozily in your car seat was tiny and absolutely adorable, and so was your waist. Tiny, I mean. You couldn’t have been more than two months postpartum, but that belly had no sign it was ever big enough to carry anything close to the size of a baby.

Me, on the other hand, my cart was full of vegetables, fruit and meat– the same diet I’ve eaten for over three years. Not a scrap of pastry or sugar or caffeine or processed food. My baby sat up in my cart, her eyes shining when she waved to every passerby. And my waist? I’ve worked nine hard months to get back to the size I am now, and I still couldn’t fit in your shorts if you paid me a million dollars.

To get down to your waist size, Skinny Mama, that’s a goal I’ve strived for and sacrificed for and starved for longer than I care to admit. I’ve cried over the unfairness of people like you, who have bodies that work and thyroids and metabolisms that make tiny figures that fit in single-digit sizes. And you’re not the only one I know. I see you everywhere. At the pool. In the library. At the gas station, the children’s museum, the doctor’s office, family gatherings. Everywhere I go, I know sweet mommies like you, toting their babies around in their skinny jeans and XS tops. And I get knocked down by Jealousy and Failure, and the ever-nagging voice of Comparison makes me feel inferior.


This gal can only take so much of it before it starts killing me. Killing my joy. Stealing my drive. Robbing me of the privilege of being myself, living in this body. Because, you see, Comparison is a liar. It whispers to me that if I looked like you, I would be happier. If I were a Skinny Mama, I would feel different. I would be more attractive. I would like my clothes more. I would be sexier, more content, and a better mother. I would be full of joy.

I call BS.

This body I’ve been given, the one that can only function on clean food? It can work from sunup to sundown cleaning stalls and riding horses and sorting through a mess of financial figures to satisfy a bookkeeping client. It can give life to three fantastic little humans, and then keep up with their messes and their owies and their baths and haircuts and appetites. It can manage a house, a family and two businesses and still have the energy to invest in others. It completely excels at marriage, and loving that man who is wild about it. It is creative and nurturing and absolutely sexy.

And I refuse to treat it like a traitor by agreeing with Comparison.

I’m sure I’ll see you again today, my skinny friend. An errand to town pretty much guarantees I’ll meet a Skinny Mama. I plan to smile at you with completely honest joy. I may even compliment those cute shorts on that tiny waist. I hope you never fall in the trap that Comparison sets by wishing you looked like me, or by thinking anything in your life would improve if you had my hips or my bust or my hair. It’s not worth it. Believing the lies. Sizing yourself up against me. Trust me — I’ve tried it.

Because, the real struggle is for JOY. Comparison steals Joy. So does Failure and Jealousy. But, dear Skinny Mama, I’ll tell you the best news you’ve ever heard: joy doesn’t come from a clothing size or a bank account or a marital status or a baby of your own, or anything else in this whole world.

Joy comes from Jesus.

I choose Jesus.

Comparison, is plumb out of luck.

About the author

Avery Jennings

Avery Jennings is a cowboy’s wife, mom of three and writer at heart. Besides investing in her man and her three favorite little people, she spends her time helping operate their performance horse business, running her bookkeeping business, and writing in the wee hours. Avery wrote and published fiction novels as a teen, but can only find time for shorter articles about real life now. She loves to create and relate, and is especially fond of Jesus. 


  • The honesty and vulnerability you express brought me to tears, Avery. This refreshing perspective is like a spotlight on a shadowy joy-killer. So good!

  • I am that “skinny mama”, and you are sooooo right about comparison being a joy killer. I may not compare myself physically but I definitely have sacrificed my joy to a mentality of “not good enough” to unspoken standards or projected judgements about mothering or home-teaching or home keeping or marriage… etc. I do aim to eat healthy and cook from scratch, but I cannot gain weight, and I often lack energy and initiative. I choose to reject the BS comparisons and simply enjoy the blessings and grow in acceptance of who I am and follow the lead of Jesus to become who He desires me to be as a mother, wife, daughter, sister, and friend.
    You are not alone. Thanks for the encouragement that I am not either 🙂

  • As a newly “skinny mama” I can tell you with 100% certainty that we can never know the reality of that other person’s life. What’s her story? Maybe that skinny mama is only skinny because she was very ill (like in my case)? We don’t know unless we ask, but it’s irrelevant. I walk around all to often feeling judged. When I was heavier, for being heavy, now that I’m thin for being too thin, for losing my cool on my kids in public, for having so many kids, for laughing too loud… man pleasing is exhausting and you’re right, robs us of our Joy!

  • Thanks for sharing–I love that you have to a place of acceptance of yourself and are fighting that comparison battle. Your post struck me for a different reason than some of the commenters-you never know someone’s story. Those TV dinners and donuts may not be for that skinny mama. They may be the things she buys to throw people off so they don’t ask questions about her eating habits; they may be the only “safe” foods she feels she can eat, possibly just one per day, to maintain that waist. Sometimes being that “skinny mama” is a prison. That skinny mama was/is me, now with a 9 year old, recovering from and dealing with an eating disorder I’ve had since adolescence (but denied and kept under wraps for as long as I could), with the bone density of a 70 year old. Not saying every “skinny mama” has an eating disorder. Just throwing it out there that the comparison game is futile at best, because you never know the pain someone is dealing with or at what price comes the thing that you are envying/comparing.

  • Maybe instead of whining about skinny people and how gross they make you feel. You should acquire some self control, start doing some exercise, and get back to a standard human weight. You should feel bad when you see skinny people because you are too lethargic and unintelligent to do it yourself. Grow up.

    • If you only knew the amount of self control she uses, the amount of exercise she does, you would have nothing to say in response to this. I guess you didn’t catch what she said about eating extremely healthy, clean foods for the last 3 years and, in addition to regular exercise, working on a horse ranch mucking stalls for a living. I can assure you, it isn’t because of diet and exercise. Some people’s bodies don’t respond to even the healthiest of lifestyles. Her point in this article was not to say that skinny people make her feel gross, but to remind herself not to compare and she also said towards the end that she hopes the skinny mama’s don’t compare themselves either. It was written very well with a lot of grace for both sides if you have the eyes to see it.

      • We do know. She wouldn’t be the weight she is if she did have self control. You don’t magically keep on weight. You eat less than you burn and you’ll lose. She wanted to whine about seeing a skinny person and be judgemental because she’s jealous that she can’t eat bad food and look like that.

      • re: I can assure you, it isn’t because of diet and exercise.

        weight loss/gain = calories in – calories out.

  • I love this. Thanks for your honesty. We all have our own comparisons that rob us of joy, don’t we? Thanks so much for shedding light on this!!!

  • It’s also very possible this “skinny mom” adopted or had a surrogate. So… She could be envious of you as well. I agree comparison is a thief though.

  • You sound incredibly judgemental and jealous. Watch your calories and you’ll be able to look like the Skinny Mom. For a Christian who is supposed to love and accept everyone, you’re sounding pretty hateful. Quit body shaming and improve yourself.