For most of my life, I have had a challenging relationship with my body.  Although I have tried to not allow my body to hold me back from opportunities, I often wonder how it does. I know that I get nervous on airplanes because I don’t want whoever sits next to me to have a look of dread on their face when I approach my seat.  I know that there are sometimes restaurant booths that may be tighter for me to sit in and I don’t want to have difficulty if I’m out with a group of people.  I’m always conscious about the size and space that I take up.  

However, my favorite part of my body is my waist.  It gives me an hourglass figure that at times makes me feel sexy and feminine.  I have a nice (and more importantly healthy) rack that is fairly perky for the size of what it is.  I may be breaking every rule that women are taught by expressing parts of my body that I like.  It may be seen as objectifying myself, but to proclaim what parts of my body I do like is important and a small rebellious act for me and for women and certainly for many women of my size.  I love my eyes and eyelashes. I have fine skin.  I like my legs most of the time. My décolletage is improving.  I look in the mirror every morning and remind myself of these features and celebrate myself and then I try with every effort in my being to hold onto these self-compliments as I move away from the comfort and privacy of the reflection in my bathroom and go out into the world. 

I don’t talk about my body or my relationship with my body or food or shortcomings of my body with anyone. I don’t make it the subject of jokes. I never want my body to discredit any of my other qualities or accomplishments.  I try to live the Jewish closed-casket theory of having my spirit and soul reflect into this world because besides the actual size of my body that I cannot hide - I do not want my body to speak for me.  But it does.  And I know that.  

 I started seeing a therapist a year and a half ago and it took a long, long time for the topic of my body to come up.  Rather, for me to finally feel comfortable talking about my body.  And in talking, she said “it sounds like you have a lot of ‘shame’ surrounding your relationship with your body.” And I knew it was shame because as soon as the word was said- it struck a chord. And I started to cry. It resonated. And then I felt shame for having the shame about my body. Slowly, I started to make small, mindful choices that led me to lose 50 pounds. 

At work, I was selected to go on this exchange program and I was assigned to Bucharest, Romania. My host, Diana, messaged me on Facebook and told me we were going to the seaside while I was there. I needed a bathing suit.  Now, I know that most women I know hate shopping for a bathing suit. I am one of those women.  But off I went to the plus-size store and I tried on all the one-pieces and I was not happy.  I don’t know what possessed me to try it on, but I actually found a two-piece that had enough support in the top and good enough coverage on the bottom.  I don’t think I’ve worn a two-piece bathing suit since I was eight years old.  I stood in the dressing room mirror for a while just looking, trying to see if I liked it, if I was comfortable, if I was brave enough.  I bought it but I decided to bring along one of my old, stretched-out one-pieces as back up.  

We got to the beach, and maybe it was because I was in Europe where it seems that body acceptance is more prevalent than in the states, but I put the bottom of my bathing suit on, and I put the top of the bathing suit on, and I put my cover up on over that. I went down to the sea.  My friends and I got our lounge chairs, we laid our towels down, and then, it was time to remove the cover up.  Or was it?  Should I? I stood in the sand for a few moments, looking at my empty lawn chair, did my best to clear my mind, and removed my cover up.  Standing there, in my two-piece – no one cared.  I didn’t get any weird glances my way like I thought I would. I didn’t get any point of the fingers in my direction. I didn’t get any negative comments.  So I climbed into my chair and I put my earbuds in and I actually started to relax.  

Later I decided to take a dip in the Black Sea.  I walked along the shoreline in my two-piece bathing suit and dipped my toes in the water. It was glorious.  And I actually felt pretty okay.  Maybe even comfortable?  I didn’t tell anyone that this was the first time I wore a two-piece in almost 25 years, but I started to feel proud of myself. Like, all the societal signals surrounding size-shaming started to get smaller.  All the doctor’s that I’ve seen – where even though my health numbers all looked normal – could only fall back on negative connotations with my body starting to drift away.  All the messages and battles and negative self-talk that I’ve had with my body, myself, me – for just this moment – started to disappear.  For this moment, I rose above all that.  I was just me, walking in this body that took me all the way across the world, to smell the sea, walk under the sun, feel the water and sand between my toes and surround my ankles.  For this moment, I wasn’t listening to all the body-negative, self-doubt, self-talk, self-conscious thoughts that I could have been having – but instead, I thought to myself – I kind of like this bathing suit.  

Recently, I was back in my therapist’s office and talking about my experience with this body.  I was also feeling kind of down on myself lately because I’ve been at a plateau for a while and feeling a little frustrated but also trying to pep-talk myself with how far I’ve come.  I like that I feel more comfortable in my skin. I like that I wore that two-piece bathing suit. I like the higher energy I seem to have.  I like that I’m incorporating self-care and balance. I like that I’ve dropped a few clothes sizes and the clothing choices I now have.  I’m liking the way I look in photos more.  I like that I am leaning into mindfulness and seeing food for fuel instead of just pleasure.  I like that I’m learning how to remove the dichotomy in good food vs bad food and just seeing it as food and changing my narrative into wanting to focus on my overall wellness – including sleeping, movement, journaling, mindfulness – instead of setting up strict parameters that can cause shame or failure – whatever failure even means.  I’m learning self-compassion.  I’m learning acceptance. And even though I’m proud of myself and motivated, it’s very hard to not look in the mirror and not feel as though I have so much more to go to where I would like to be.  It’s hard to not block out every bad self-thought that comes into my mind.

My therapist paused and answered – you know, there’s nothing wrong with just saying to yourself – I’m very happy with where my body is right now.  I’m okay with how I am. 

I looked at her, exhaled, swallowed back some tears and replied – I’ve never heard a medical professional say that to me before.  It was freeing for me to just accept that this is my body.  And this body transports me to beautiful places and allows me to see wonderful things this world has to offer. This body is the vehicle for every action and memory and good time and story.  This body dances to the slightest beat of music.  This body convulses and can’t help but make a loud sound when I laugh.  This body shows affection by embracing other bodies that forms deep human connections with. This body holds the very soul of my being of a person that I am proud of and like.  How can I have negative thoughts about this body? 

 So, I’m still working on my positive self-talk.  I’m still working on my body-positivity and acceptance. I’m still working on not telling myself that something is bad or wrong or good or not allowed.  I’m simply making small choices that will hopefully lead up to greater results.  I’m still working on changing my mind and outlook.  And on those days where it is harder for me to feel proud or even positive, I remember the day that I stepped out into the sun, and I overcame the naysayers with my two-piece suit, where I walked proudly along the shore.  And I recite a new mantra that I’ve recently introduced into my life which is:

I’m very happy with where my body is right now.  I’m okay with how I am.

I’m very happy with where my body is right now.  I’m okay with how I am.

I’m very happy with where my body is right now.  I’m okay with how I am.

I’m very happy with where my body is right now.  I’m okay with how I am.

I’m very happy with where my body is right now.  I’m okay with how I am.

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Author Profile:

Jennie Ellman enjoys going to concerts, bar trivia, dancing, and baking pies.  She has told stories around Chicago for shows including You're Being Ridiculous at Steppenwolf, Matter Dance, Write Club at The Hideout, and Story Club.  Jennie is on the Legacy Committee for the Chicago Department of Cultural Affairs and Special Events's 2020 Year of Chicago Music where she hopes to assist in the telling of the story of Chicago's musical history.  Jennie also created the "My Song Our Playlist" collaboration project (@mysongourplaylist on Instagram) where people can submit songs with their personal significance. The stories are posted to Instagram and added to a Spotify playlist with the hope that stories and music will continue to bring people together even while we are separated.

 

 

I originally made clothes just for myself, because I struggled to find things that were long enough in stores. Small through xl, doesn’t make sense, it’s not enough to stop there. 

 

 

Grading is a challenge. You can’t just up a pattern, you need to make a new pattern so the clothes fit well. That’s why we don’t see much plus sizing from major companies. For people who want to wear my clothes, I want to offer as many sizes as I can, but I can’t do it all at once so I asked people for some grace in the process. I used fit models, talked to other designers and listened to people of all body sizes had to say about what they were looking for in their clothes. Bodies are all so different; designers need people to give them input. 

 

 

Ask for it! But have patience with small local makers. Tell designers what you want and what sizes you want. Make the maker make it happen. Start having honest and informative conversations at creative events where local makers are selling their clothes. 

 

I like to make clothes that make me happy and I like to think that people buy my clothes because they make them happy. It’s exciting when I see anyone wear my clothes. Especially people who aren’t able to wear the standard sizes I used to make. It’s important for everyone to see a model that looks like them to see how a piece fits, but we need even more diversity in terms of sizes, ages, abilities and real more.  As a consumer I would rather see that so I’m able to make an informed purchase. When I see brands that have only stick thin models, I don’t want to buy from that brand, so it’s important for me to have representation among the models I choose for my brand as well. I don’t think anyone should ever tell anyone else what not to wear. When someone is wearing something that works for them, you can tell. Buy clothes that fit you and make you feel good! 

1 SEEING YOUR ENEMIES FAIL

I’m petty. I know I’m not supposed to admit it or whatever but literally WHAT is the point of staying alive and trying to succeed if not to receive a friend request from some asshole who made fun of your gym shorts? Then to scroll through his pictures and look at his gross dog and his weird kids and remember how hard he made your life twenty years ago, meanwhile his current life, the life he actually put together himself rather than the one that was forced upon him by his broke and unprepared parents, is garbage?! It is the most satisfying feeling and I’m not sorry for having it! Whatever I looked like or did/didn’t have in the seventh grade was definitely not my fault. I didn’t have a job! I couldn’t make the rules! Would I have chosen to buy bright pink Payless sneakers while everyone else was rocking brand new Jordans? No, sir, I would not have. But I was twelve. You paid for that shitty haircut and you posted a picture of it on your Twitter? Thank you for this much-needed validation!  So trust me, it’s going to happen for you, too. And it will feel like a unicorn sliding down a rainbow into your heart. Anyone who has wronged you will eventually get their comeuppance. And, thanks to modern technology, you’ll probably get to watch it in real time.

2 STOCKING YOUR PANTRY LIKE AN ADULT CHILD

I’m not going to bullshit you and say that I never buy vegetables because listen, sometimes I read articles about how much folic acid a functioning body needs and information about B vitamins worms its way into my tiny brain and I think “wow I should buy spinach” while strolling through the cereal aisle at the grocery store but honestly the oreo to carrot ratio in my house is a smooth 3:1. Sure I buy hummus and the good kind of organic peanut butter but there’s also a bag of spicy Doritos in the pantry that I’m planning to eat in its entirety as a meal. I don’t have any kids, and maybe having someone’s behavior to monitor is the catalyst through which you begin to monitor your own?, so I just get what I want and no one’s disapproving eyebrows will raise in judgement as I have cake for breakfast.

3 THREE A.M. IS A LIE

When I was a kid all I ever wanted to know was what happened in the adult universe after 9pm. As a rapidly-decaying, expired bag of meat I have learned that it is not as scintillating as I once assumed. The universe is set up to trick you into into believing that you aren’t cool and that a magical trapdoor of awesome adventures swings open on your eighteenth birthday, or that everything that happens after you’ve already gone to bed is an unimaginable thrill ride, but let me disabuse you of these notions: every titillating adult mystery is really just a hassle or a bill in disguise. No need to wish on your birthday candles for your exciting adult life to start, because you’re perfect and so is your life as it is right this minute. Besides, adulthood is really nothing but drudgery and hard work masquerading as glamorous excitement, and nothing fun happens for the rest of us while you are young and dewy and going to bed before midnight. I promise you.

4 TALKING BACK TO THE DOCTOR

I mean, he’s gonna say whatever the hell he’s gonna say. And the power dynamic is shifted, especially if you’re sitting there in that crumpled paper gown with the majority of your soft parts exposed. But instead of your legal guardian nodding solemnly along with whatever shitty thing he’s saying about you while placing a silencing hand on your meaty backside, you can interrupt and remind him that you are a person, not just a collection of fat cells, and he needs to address your concerns rather than condescendingly schooling you on how calories are burned. Anyone who has so much as glanced at a women’s magazines is basically an expert at weight loss, doc, now what about that ear infection I came in for?

5 DECORATING YOUR OWN CRIB

Did you know that there are mattresses specifically for fat bodies? There are mattresses specifically for fat bodies!!! And you can buy one on your phone and have it delivered to your doorstep in a matter of days. Also, no more couches that your mom won’t let you sit on. You can eat every meal in front of the tv if you want or mix up all your clothes in whatever cycle you want in the washing machine and balance all eight bottles of body wash on the edge of the tub because hey mom, I LIKE A LITTLE VARIETY. Don’t put a coaster down! Or buy a table that’s made of fucking coasters because who cares? It’s your house! You no longer have to look at your brother’s graduation photo every time you grab a Coke from the fridge. Hate having a dust ruffle? You don’t have to have a goddamn dust ruffle!!

6 EMPOWERING SHIT ON TV

I loved tv as a kid. Like, really loved it. And I had bad parents so I was allowed to consume as much of it as I wanted, unsupervised, most hours of the day. But we didn’t have cable and “streaming services” were a far off invention of the future (“the inter-WHAT?!” -my mom, probably) so most of the shit I watched was relatively wholesome: cartoons in the morning, All My Children in the afternoons, whatever was on the NBC primetime lineup at night. Nowadays everybody’s worried about screen time, and I get it, there’s physics homework to do. But we’re also just at the beginning of this golden age of television, where fat people are making shows about being fat and unapologetic and it’s just going to get better. Imagine what kind of bad bitch I could be teenage me had had Dietland in my life?! I mean, Heathers did a pretty good job of raising me but The Mindy Project might have gotten me into a better college. Just saying.

7 SEEING THE CHARACTER-BUILDING EXPERIENCES OF YOUR YOUTH IN ACTION

Every day at the beginning of gym class this kid used to ask me, in a way that on the surface seemed like genuine curiosity but I knew he was actually being a dick, “Hey, how much do you weigh?” Truth be told, I had no fucking idea because my parents never took me to the fucking doctor and we weren’t a “this scale actually works” kind of household, so when I told him that I didn’t know that was the honest truth. But I knew what he was getting at, that whatever my weight it was DEFINITELY TOO MUCH. At the time that shit just bummed me out and made me throw ⅔ of my lunch in the trash in the vain hope that not consuming six nuggets and a lukewarm milk every Tuesday would result in some lasting weight loss. But now I think that asshole is the reason why I can wear a crop top to the gas station without batting a single eyelash when people gawk or give me those “hey, good for you!” looks. It didn’t feel like it then, but that dude was just helping me build my armor, one plate at a time.

8 PLUS SIZE CLOTHING IS MARGINALLY BETTER NOW!!!

I’m almost mad at every single person reading this right now who never had to wear an ankle-length acid washed denim skirt from Sears to middle school, but I’m gonna stifle that hatred and find the part of me that is genuinely happy that you can be a size 26 and find things to wear that don’t make you look like you live on a compound. Especially if you don’t have an unlimited clothing budget. And I know that looking like warmed-up shit is a right of passage and if you’ve embraced it WOW I LOVE THAT but also hey look at that cute crop top!

9 SEXING (AND OTHER CONSENSUAL CORPOREAL TOUCHING)

I don’t know that I grew up with the kinds of TV villains we’ve grown accustomed to (popped pastel collars, windblown hair sprayed to within an inch of its life, 1987 convertibles), but I did grow up thinking that no one was ever gonna want to see my body naked, and that even if they did it surely would have been as part of some hilarious prank and not because an actual human being wanted to bring it to orgasm. I didn’t ever date anyone when I was a kid, and maybe it’s because I have a shitty personality but at the time it definitely felt like it was because I was FAT. And not just fat, but fat and wearing men’s slacks with buffalo checked flannels shirts. No one wanted to kiss me! But then I graduated and moved the fuck on and then I couldn’t stop being kissed, by all kinds of people! And not because I had some magical Cinderella makeover or hatched from my disgusting cocoon a beautiful butterfly, I was fatter and weirder than ever before and that was appealing to people outside of my high school. I had no idea that there was an entire world of people who just couldn’t wait to wrap their arms around my many doughy folds. And if that’s not your thing? That’s fine, too! There are so many people who will respect that and like you and want to chill with you no matter what you and your boundaries look like. 

10 YOUR BODY IS JUST FINE. YOU KNOW THAT, RIGHT?

If there’s one thing I wish someone would have said to teenage me as I shuffled through the shiny linoleum floors of my suburban high school in steel-toed Doc Martens and an ever-present sulk, it would be “Listen dude, your body is fine.” We were poor so I used to buy my clothes at the Salvation Army, and it’s not like I could have been in charge of my own style anyway? But it was fucking impossible when I was limited to whatever $5 big n’ tall dress pants and collared shirts I could scrounge up in the husky section. And it’s hard to feel confident and good in your body when everything is changing and hormones are racing just below the surface of your skin, but add to that general awkwardness a lumpy, hairy, acne-prone body that isn’t reflected kindly on tv or the internet or in magazines and LOL WHAT IS SELF-ESTEEM AGAIN?! But it really is okay, and I need you to really know this, for you to enjoy the body you have right now. To just be cool moving it around and allowing to be whatever it is, without apologizing for whatever space it takes up. I have no real idea for exactly how to do this, because I’m 39 years old and still find myself apologizing for my horrifyingly damp and awkward existence, but a thing I say in my head on an embarrassingly regular basis is “This is the body you have, man. Go live your life.” There was definitely a time when I thought that I couldn’t start living until I magically woke up in my body a third of its normal size, that good things wouldn’t happen for me until, I don’t know, my fat wrists got smaller?! Yet here I am, cheeks as chubby as they’ve ever been, and I’m fine. I do fun shit that makes me happy every single day. My friends love me. My body continues to serve its many purposes, chief among them carting this brain and heart around. So never forget that you’re good. You really are! Keep your (many) chins up.

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Author Profile:

Samantha Irby writes a blog called "Bitches Gotta Eat."

https://bitchesgottaeat.blogspot.com/

20 stupid 20. 

Now, I’m no psychiatrist but I think one of the reasons Americans are having such a terrible time with following quarantine protocols is that we often run away from our feelings. We do not like to sit in the mire of feelings…so, what happens when the world stops because a deadly virus is upon us and we are all forced to sit, stew, and simmer. It seems like trauma is getting brought up to a boil. 

For some, this is just hard and icky and so it’s easier to go to the grocery store every day or drink on a porch with friends even though we have been advised not to do said things. For me, as someone who has Ehlers Danlos I am immunocompromised…and as someone who is fat I am just at high risk for biased care from Medical Professionals. 

The last thing I did on March 13th before Chicago went into strict quarantine was go workout with my trainer, early vote in the primaries, and buy a gluten free donut from Do-Rite. I got home, the news was getting worse and it was clear that not only was this serious but in the immortal words of Oda Mae Brown, ‘you in danger, girl.’ See aforementioned statements about being immunocompromised. 

So I sat. 

And I stewed. 

I have been in and out of therapy with regularity since I was sixteen. At sixteen my father’s abusive ways became no longer able to be ignored and there was a Mission Impossible, Herculean effort for me to be removed from my home. 

By April of 2020 I was having full on panic attacks-reading that Italy and Arizona essentially had started Eugenics against Fat Folks who were Coronavirus Positive. (Oh, spoiler alert, we now know that ob*sity is not a significant risk factor for greater hospitalization, ventilation, or death among people with COVID-19) There’s nothing like fearing that you will be left alone to die, begging for help, and people will choose not to help you to kick up a little PTSD from your childhood. 

So, I did a few things: I reached out to a therapist and started therapy again, I opened up to close friends about the level of distress I was experiencing, I decided to be very strict about caring for myself almost to an agoraphobic level, and I chose not to run away from the other things that were getting triggered and for me, some of that was food related. 

There isn’t one fat person I know who isn’t healing their relationship to food. Often the outside world, I.E .diet culture has done such a number on us that our relationship to food is just broken…and the times when it’s most disordered is when we get the most praise from people. It’s thoroughly fucked and a cyclone of guilt, shame, and oppressive nonsense. 

In the past four years I have done a lot to heal my relationship to food. A lot to parse out what is a control issue as it relates to food. How to heal that issue and mend restrictive eating. I know talking about food issues can be hard and distressing and I know a lot of us were triggered by people talking about their relationship to food during a pandemic so callously. Like, here we are afraid we will be denied a ventilator because we are fat but, sure Susan, you just can’t stop eating pretzels and you have gained ten pounds and that’s just the WORST. Can you hear my eyes rolling, can you?

At the beginning of all this I decided to not go to grocery stores.  I had already been receiving deliveries every other week from imperfect foods. I upped what I purchased and changed to a weekly delivery schedule. 

This meant that I was A-making everything I ate. Which, let’s be honest, cooking is time consuming. B-being presented with limited options. C-sometimes those limited options were foods I had long written off…like celery. 

I hated celery for a good chunk of my life. Well, if I’m being honest I didn’t even know if I really hated it…did I hate the texture or the taste, who knows? Honestly, up until April of this year I barely remembered the taste of celery and I just knew it required a lot of chewing…

What I hated was the trauma that I had associated with celery. I was forced to eat celery a lot as a child because it was a negative calorie food and my parents desperately wanted a child that wasn’t fat. 

I remember times when a meal had been prepared for my family and they would eat one thing while I was eating a meal that was, ‘diet’ friendly. I have a palpable memory of my family in the living room eating their meal and me sitting in the kitchen while the dog was eating out of his bowl and I was eating my diet meal and thinking, ‘they treat me the same way they treat the dog’. 

Celery wasn’t the only food that was on that list: grapefruit and cottage cheese were there as well. Then a week came where all three of those foods were offered in a week were offerings were sparse. So, I ordered all three. I forced myself to make meals with them.

Turns out I love grapefruit, really like celery, and find cottage cheese to be generally revolting. It tastes like a squeak toy…or what I imagine a squeak toy to taste like. But, what a joy to know I just dislike cottage cheese. 

Repairing my relationship to at least two foods I once saw as intertwined with the reminder that my body is not deserving of food that brings it joy has been one of the best things to come out of this year. 

My body is deserving. It is deserving of food, it is deserving of pleasure, it is deserving of things I like without punishment or embarrassment. And, while I know so many of us have talked ad nauseum about people saying shitty things about bodies and food in quarantine I get to say that it’s been a joy to feel like in a time of such pain I can point to some sort of tangible healing. 

Can you hear that celery crunch?

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Author Profile:

Jessie Oliver is a Singer, Voice Teacher, Theater Artist, and Fat Activist from Chicago currently spending some time in Little Rock. She is the co-host of the Fat Liberation podcast, Fat Outta Hell. An overcommitting queen, she has roughly ten projects in motion presently none of which are ready to be talked about. She wants you to know, with every fiber of her being, that you deserve to be happy in your body.