I am fat.
I’ve been called fat my whole life. I’ve heard it spat at me in hallways, hissed behind hands in cafeterias, tutted sadly by family members, and said gravely by doctors.
Fat Fattie Cow Pig Lardass Tubby
I have heard some softer words said with pitty (something even worse than all the ways listed above.) By my mom when I cried over bullies, by my friends as I ‘ignored’ the people behind me in the lunch line, by my grandma as she refused to let me skip birthday cake because I was so mad at my body. These words were all said with kind intentions, but they still scooted around the most apt and proper description of my body.
Chubby, fluffy, cuddly, husky, plump.
But none of these words are what I am. They can be used to describe me sure, but what I really am is simpler.
I am Fat.
And the only way I will ever use that word again, the only way that I will ever again accept it to be said to me, is with love and kindness.
I will no longer accept venom spit at me or pity infused love. I refuse those words, they do not define me. I will not accept anything other than clinical definition and kind admiration.
If you don’t have either of those things to say you are left with one option, that’s ignoring my body and instead simply seeing me as a human with emotions, thoughts, ideas, and things to contribute to the world, hard as that may be for some people.
Because I’m reclaiming the word Fat. Its not a bad word. Its not a word laced with venom or razor sharp edges anymore. Its not a word that makes my brow perspire and my shoulders hunch to try and hide as much of me as possible, to shrink myself into nothingness. I’ll hold my head up and shoulders squared because I deserve the space that I occupy as much as any other person in the world.
Its my body. Its a fat body. And I’ll be damned if anyone ANYONE ever tries to tell me that I can’t use that word.