fatphobia

For the first time in my life, I realized how much time I’ve spent tip-toeing around what I have inherently felt was a “man's world”: from the gym to simply being able to walk down the street knowing my body would be judged.

If you asked me to guess what was going through her head, I would say she was in shock that a fat lady would wear a tight skirt, belly in full sight. This feminist act of taking up space, tacitly but clearly making room for myself in a fatphobic culture, is a bold-but-crucial move if you’re my brand of fat babe.

Although the hunt for the perfect outfit at the thrift store was a thrill when I was thin, as a fat person, the hunt was just downright depressing.

I saw my boobs as a way to get me into the secret world of feminine desirability, so I played them like they were my winning hand. I created an entire story about my sexuality that centered my breasts because they felt like the only normal — or maybe extraordinary — thing about my body. I think I hoped that I could use them to get some precious ween (obvi), but also to get MORE.

You know what’s more “ostracizing” than being called plus-size? Actually BEING plus-size and unable to find clothes that fit you and that you like.
Plus-size people do not have the same choices as those who wear straight sizes — not in style, quality, price point, or availability. THAT'S ostracizing.

Jacob (boyfriend) lives walking distance to a See’s Candies. This means that half the week I live walking distance to a See’s Candies — which, if you're me, is a little like living next to Disneyland.

My relationship with body is anything but “typical.” So far, I’ve hated my body at every size — and not just because of my size.

We know it and hate to say it. Americans have gained a well-earned reputation around the world for being heavyweights when it comes to our waistlines—but in a country saturated with information, why can't we change our habits?