If We're Talking Bodies
Do I look fat in this dress? I want a brownie, but I don’t want to get fat. These ideas of being fat and avoiding fatness permeate our everyday lives, especially as we live in a society that often promotes unhealthy or unattainable [for the average person – not all people, of course] body types. I can definitely say that I often fall victim to these societal pressures. When I exercise, I do it to be healthy and strong – but that’s not the only reason. I want to be able to eat all the delicious food I love without getting... wait for it... fat. But at the same time, I don’t want to stigmatize fatness and body types that differ from the socially-enforced norm.
Why do we say “fat” like it’s a dirty word? Most people carry around some fat. I certainly do. I’ve never had a thigh gap or a flat stomach, and I probably never will [I say this because I have no plans to give up dessert anytime soon]. I love to eat, and I also love to exercise. That’s part of what balance looks like for me, and it’s also how I generally maintain a stable weight. My healthy, stable weight looks like curves and that little stomach pudge I like to call “cookie storage,” but it also looks like defined quads and seriously awesome calves and the ability to run ten miles. And yet, I still feel threatened by the possibility of being fat, or even being perceived as fat. In fact, I do so much to avoid others viewing me as fat that it sometimes becomes a little ridiculous.
If you know me, then you know I have a signature outfit: ¾ length black leggings, flowy top, black puffer vest, black Converse [yes, so incredibly stylish and inventive, I call it athleisure]. It works for me—I feel like the stretchy leggings pull in my stomach and the loose tops and oversized sweaters gloss over my abdominal area even further. When I do wear something tighter, I spend the whole day stressing about where it’s clinging to my body and if people are noticing the fat on either side of the band of my bra or my after-lunch food baby. But you know what? Many other women are so busy scrutinizing themselves in the same way that they’re too concerned with their own insecurities to spend time worrying about mine. I don’t go around thinking about other girls’ back fat or belly pudges. Literally nobody does that.
And here’s another thing: the societal definition of “fat” is incredibly arbitrary. Last May, I was twenty pounds heavier than I am today—but I didn’t feel especially large. For me, that was just my normal, especially when I wasn’t weighing myself all the time and was less conscious of my weight from day to day. It’s difficult to see the difference in the mirror. I still wear the same clothes, even if they fit slightly differently or they’re concealing a bit less weight. My weight now and my weight then both felt normal for me, and I genuinely can’t tell the difference. I’ve also been dating the same wonderful guy for nearly two years now, and he’s seen me and loved me through a variety of different weights, none of which has changed his opinion of me even a little bit. I was hot then, I’m hot now, and I’ll still be hot if I gain or lose weight from here on out [note: Dave’s wonderfulness is not based on him loving me as my weight has vacillated across a twenty-pound span – that’s a given. If your partner diminishes you for weight loss or gain, drop them immediately, you deserve better!].
Further, people of the same weight can look entirely different. How you carry your weight depends on so many different things (height, muscle and fat ratio, and more). It’s not as though once you cross the threshold of 200 pounds, or 300 pounds, or whatever, that you’re suddenly “fat.” People’s perceptions differ as well – an appearance that one person considers fat may not receive that same categorization by a different person. My point is, it’s totally arbitrary and whether or not you consider yourself fat really should be up to you. The word “fat” as we most often use it in American society is essentially meaningless.
All this talk about fatness has another nuance too: in discussing how I’m not fat and how I’ve apparently avoided that hurdle, I’m simultaneously stigmatizing people who are fat and who have chosen to embrace that word and that concept [which is absolutely not what I intend to do]. I think the way that we in America talk about being fat is extremely detrimental to body positivity in our society. Our society holds up this threat of fatness, perpetuated in pop culture and the media and especially now through social media networks, that affects all of us, but especially young people and especially women. In my opinion, the root of this problem lies in the stigmatization and negative connotation surrounding both the word and concept of “fat.”
We shouldn’t be talking about trying not to get fat, or about how we need to be skinny to be beautiful, or about how we’re worried about getting fat later in life. Being fat is not inherently bad. Ok, let me just repeat that one more time. Being fat is not inherently bad. That’s not just my opinion either, it’s true. Unless there’s a major negative effect on your health, being heavier is not a bad thing by itself. I know plenty of women who are heavier than I am, but that doesn’t make them less beautiful or less sexy or make their personalities less vibrant. We need to stop classifying people according on a fat/skinny binary that perpetuates negative stereotypes about fatness as the antithesis of beauty or success or fitness. Like I’ve said, I’m just as much a culprit of this as anyone else, but it’s something that I’m trying to work on.
The way I’m going about changing the way I think about fatness is rooted in my language first. I’m changing my questions. Instead of asking myself do I look fat in this dress? I’ll ask myself do I feel happy in this dress? Rather than equating eating a brownie with getting fat, I will see a brownie and think I want that brownie, so I’m going to have it, or I want that brownie, but I’ve already eaten a lot of dessert today so my body will probably feel better if I balance that out by getting the sweetness I ‘m craving from a piece of fruit. I’m going to leave “fat” out of my dialogues with myself entirely. When I’m lounging in bed on Saturday debating if I should go the gym at all, I won’t threaten myself with the possibility of gaining weight; instead, I’ll imagine how that workout will improve my running stamina or how much more energized I’ll feel by starting my day with exercise.
This likely won’t happen seamlessly or immediately, but it is one of my goals for myself during this semester. I want to work towards separating fat from the series of culturally-supported binaries that influence my life. Instead of appraising my body on any given day as “skinny” or “fat” or even as “skinnier” or “fatter,” I’m going to appreciate it as neither of those things, and just as itself, a body. A body that ran 11.6 miles on Saturday, the farthest it’s ever run. A body that loves to eat gnocchi and ice cream [highly recommend Ben & Jerry’s Non-Dairy Coconut Seven-Layer Bar] and grapefruit and peppers and everything in between. A body that is beautiful regardless of its size. A body that, all categorizations aside, is just a body.
So, appreciate your body for what it is; don’t disparage it for what it isn’t. If you, like me, worry about your weight and your appearance in terms of our society’s fat/skinny binary, consider joining me in trying to distance yourself from those harmful categorizations. Pursue happiness, not thinness – and definitely pursue pizza!
