Fat Woman Walking

I tried being one of you. I really did. I believe in your cause: that all fat people should be accepted and respected. But I’m also a hypocrite because I despise my fat self. I don’t hate you, though. In fact, I think you’re incredibly brave to take up such an unpopular cause; I wish it were popular and sexy like civil and LGBTQA rights. Almost everyone can get on board with advancing the rights of minorities and gays, right? But I have to tell you: most people laugh at and late-night comedians poke fun at your organization. I’m sure you already knew that. I suppose most people, even other fat people, assume that fat people can do something about their weight, while other minorities can’t change the color of their skin. Never mind that that it’s more complicated than that. Never mind that NAAFA should be wildly popular, given that two-thirds of Americans are fat or obese, that, in the end, 95% of all diets fail. God knows I have tried and tried. Dismal res...

I am not comfortable in my fat body. I feel shame in my fatness. Anyone who has been fat understands what it’s like to navigate the public arena; the psychological aspects are much worse than the physical limitations of a fat body, which can be considerable. In a world designed primarily, and unapologetically, for the slender, watching out for physical barriers is an on-going worry: tight spaces, small cars, elevators, crowded public transportation (airplanes, especially), and skimpy chairs designed to hold bodies up to 250 pounds – that is, if one is lucky. Once, when I was on my Fulbright in Macedonia, where the population is still relatively slender (although this is rapidly changing), and dining in a small Italian restaurant, I stood up from a rickety plastic armchair to leave, and the chair arose with me. Everyone knows that a chair is not supposed to be a fashion accessory for the posterior, but there I was, sporting a white chair, no less, and trying to wiggle out of ...