I’m fat but I’m not super-fat: On labels, power, and identity (reblog)

More on labels in light of recent conversations. This time it’s me worrying about smaller fat voices like mine crowding out others in difficult conversations. It’s also about why I want people to know that when they’re talking about “obesity” they’re talking about me. Judging by numbers on the scale, and it’s a numbers on the scale measure, I’m very much in. I’m still thinking about all of this stuff. Your thoughts are welcome.


So readers of this blog know that I’m on the fence about identifying as fat. See Fat or big: What’s in a name?

When I think of my body, it’s not the first adjective to come to mind. I don’t feel fat, usually, whatever that even means, given that Tracy, who is by my standards tiny, can feel fat. (What are my standards for small? Your clothes size is a single digit. Arbitrary, I know, but there it is.)

The words I like, the words that feel right to me, when it comes to describing my body are big, brawny, husky, large, substantial, and curvy. That I don’t just see myself as fat is the result of years of effort. I’ve come to see my body through the eyes of those who appreciate it as it is, not as a potential fixer-up-er.

And readers of the blog know the…

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