By Bethany-Jade Fisher

Growing up as a fat woman, I’d never been proud to be what I am. 

Fat. My whole life has been filled with unsolicited, unwarranted and rude comments or opinions about my body:

“You’d be so pretty if you slimmed down a little bit.” 

“Have you ever tried calorie counting and cutting out sugar?”

“I’m just really concerned about your health.”

Don’t forget my all-time favourite: “You have a really nice personality.”

Backhanded compliment after backhanded compliment; most of the time delivered with that sympathetic mocking tone of people thinner than me. 

I used to blame it on a lack of education back when I was a child in the early 2000’s, but when it began to carry on into my late teens, I realised it was internalized fatphobia at its finest. Now, I’m not saying that by any means I’ve been the perfect fat person at calling out fatphobia; I’d be a hypocrite to façade that illusion. I’ve spent my fair share of time sat fantasizing about having a size 8 pair of thighs and wondering how I’m going to pay for fat removal on my stomach, but they’re my personal thoughts and struggles. They’re not for people to comment on themselves, or even suggest. 

We all carry internalized fatphobia around with us – it’s a learnt behaviour that’s been drilled into us since childhood. It manifests itself in comments like, “Oh my gosh! Adele has lost so much weight, she looks so beautiful!” 

I’m using Adele’s weight loss as an example here because I can guarantee that the majority of you saw that transformation and the first thing that you noticed was her new figure. It’s in no way a thing to berate yourself over – we’re all guilty of noticing when people have shed or gained weight – but it’s important to dissect why we instantly think Adele is more beautiful now that she’s lost some weight. 

Patriarchal desirability. We’ve been sold the ‘thinner = healthier and prettier’ narrative. In turn, we’ve also been sold the ‘fat = unhealthy and undesirable’ narrative. We’ve been taught to punish ourselves if we gain some weight. We’ve been taught to abstain from our favourite foods because they’ve got a high number of calories. We’ve been taught to be ashamed of our stomach rolls, our back rolls, our thighs. 

I’m in no way trying to body shame thinner bodies; remember, ALL bodies are beautiful. As a fat woman, I’m trying to raise the detrimental issue of internalized fatphobia in the media, in capitalistic narratives, in fashion and most importantly, in ourselves. 

I’m going to draw attention to a recent media ‘scandal’ that surfaced over Lizzo. 

Lizzo was bashed all over social media platforms for publicly documenting her progress doing a weeklong juice detox, with the aid and assistance of a nutritionist. People claimed that Lizzo was promoting diet culture to her fans; she came out with a video stating that she did the detox to cleanse her body naturally from bad, processed foods she’d consumed and that she wasn’t trying to lose weight from the detox. She was simply being health conscious. 

Why did Lizzo have to defend her decisions? If we look at this, we see fatphobia. 

The questions we need to be asking ourselves are: 

1. Why do we assume that when fat people make health conscious decisions they are trying to lose weight? 

2. Why don’t we give the same energy to thinner people when they promote skinny teas and diet pills? 

3. Why do we think we have a say in or opinion on anyone’s diet or health decisions? 

4. Why are we commenting on bodies that we know NOTHING about? 

Taking these questions into consideration, we need to be asking ourselves the most important question of all: What’s so bad about being fat? 

Just because we don’t fit the societal narrative of desirability, that doesn’t mean we aren’t beautiful. We have tiger stripes covering our thighs, stomach, breasts and booty. We have radiant glowing skin that comes in so many beautiful shades that protects us. 

Having someone like Lizzo, someone who is so unapologetically herself, someone who diminishes all ingrained beauty standards and owns her skin be so public and proud of her body is huge for women like myself everywhere. It’s revolutionary. It’s a big, massive “F**k you!” to patriarchal desirability. 

Lizzo has taught me so much about being a fat woman. She’s taught me how to be proud, to embrace all that I am, to love myself. Lizzo has taught me that my body is a temple. My temple. She’s taught me that my body is mine and mine only. It’s not up for discussion. It’s not up for taking unwarranted opinions and ‘advice’. 

I’m a fat woman. I’m a beautiful, healthy, proud, fat woman.