I fought back tears every time I went to the doctor and watched the scale creep past 350 into the 370’s. After that I closed my eyes when they weighed me. One time I ventured a peek and saw 382 on the scale. I was mortified and wondered if I would be dead by 35. In fact, I was sure I would be dead by 35.
In a candid discussion on my Facebook wall about Black Panther, I was wondering something….why is it still ok to make fun of fat people? There’s an assumption fat people deserve it, can change it, and that how we look is “less than.” Especially for women. We champion gay rights, black lives matter, and theContinue reading “Do fat lives matter?”
A year ago, my friend and I met over dinner to catch up. She told me about the man she had been dating for several months. As with all things Lizzie* it was a hilarious story that had that makings of a good rom-com movie. “Do you think he’s the one?” I asked. She shruggedContinue reading “This is me”
A few weeks ago, I wrote one of the most real and blog posts of my entire life. It’s about my lifelong struggle to define myself despite being “fat.” It’s about how I see myself and expect that everyone else sees and judges me through the lens of “fat.” Most of all, it’s about howContinue reading “Through the fat lens”
Whenever people encounter my mom’s one dog, Katie, it seems they cannot help but comment on her weight. “Wow, she’s a little butterball, isn’t she?” “What a beautiful dog! She’d be gorgeous if she lost a few pounds.” “Your dog is fat! Why is she so fat?” (That’s my favorite tactless statement.) Sure, Katie isContinue reading “Fat Dogs and Fat Women”