Melissa A. Fabello

I finally looked at my syllabus today. It’s been sitting in my inbox for over a week, flashing at me to find out what I have to look forward to this upcoming fall semester – which books I need to buy (and how much money I’m going to drop on them), how many assignments I’ll be graded on, what I need to have prepared before our first class meeting.

Another awesome idea, whether the relationship is new or established, is to look at a sexual inventory checklist (like this one). The list goes through different sexual situations that are important to discuss with a partner – from body boundaries to birth control and safer sex options to what you’ve done, what you’d like to try, and what’s a big “no” for you. It’s a great, less-awkward avenue to talking about sex in a big way and to understand one another’s needs more intimately.

So you’re on a diet, and you’re really pumped about it. You truly, honestly believe that you’re—say—“getting your body back” post-partum (that’s a harmful concept) or improving your fitness a la the latest technological tracking device (that’s also a harmful concept). And while I think we need to throw a lot of these ideas in the trash, I’m also understanding of how diet culture makes you believe that these are good things – things, in fact, to brag about.

Being a person with a presence on the Internet is . . . weird. It fills your life with a lot of — well — weirdness. Being a feminist with a presence on the Internet is even worse – besides the general weirdness, there’s also a lot of backlash.

I can already tell that you’re a good partner. The fact that you’re asking about this and reading this article proves that. So remind your partner that they’re a good partner, too — exactly what you need and want and love, body and all.

Body neutrality is having hot sex with your partner and never overthinking the way that your ass smacks against their thighs. It’s not being embarrassed that you have fat on your body that is affected both by gravity and inertia, nor necessarily feeling sexier because you have fat on your body that is affected both by gravity and inertia. It’s enjoying that moment of intimacy, being comfortable in your body.

And so I slid the scale to the back of my closet, started freely eating doughnuts when I craved doughnuts, and simply donated the jeans that stopped fitting instead of holding out hope for them.

“I don’t have a problem,” I repeated, this time with my voice raised. And then, spitting defiance, “You’re just jealous.”

In my experience dating and sleeping with straight, cisgender dudes who worship hegemonic masculinity, I’ve noticed that there’s something really — umm — special about how they go about sexuality.

The list on the board filled up with words like “ambitious,” “curious,” “intelligent,” and “dedicated.” And as my professor was wrapping up the activity, I sighed and raised my hand.