Virgie Tovar

One of the things I have done for myself in adulthood as part of my healing process is make a strong claim to fatness femininity.

We forego doctor visits because we know with near-total certitude that we are going to be told to lose weight. That we don’t need care — we just need to “cut back.”

Dieting is a socially sanctioned method of mentally high-tailing out of whatever is going on and keeping you entirely in your head, laser-focused on your next bite, your scale, your plate.

I spent most of last week in a southern California heat wave.

I just spent the weekend at adult fat camp — admittedly, a very different kind of fat camp than I used to dream about all those years ago.

What horrible thing is going to happen this year? Is my aunt going to touch me or someone else inappropriately or make sexual innuendo? What terrible thing is my mother going to say to my aunt about her internet boyfriend who steals chicken from my grandparents’ garage freezer in the middle of the night?

Recently there’s been an uptick in fatphobic derailments, and I thought it would be helpful to share them as well my responses to them.

If you like the idea of being with a fat fetishist, I think you should do it. If you hate the idea, then don’t. If you want to experiment with it, try it.

Would you date a fat fetishist? It always feels complicated to answer this question, but I promise an honest one by the end of part two.

I have met many people who can't say no. We all benefit when we speak clearly and frequently about what we need in order to thrive.