The Wasteful Body

A curious thing happens when you dare to be fat in public – or really just live your life whilst also fat.  Somehow your body becomes a metaphor for world views, political flavours and individual insecurities writ large. 

As I sat through another moment of palpable discomfort around the meeting table, biting my tongue and swallowing my rage, I pondered how this dynamic came to be. 

How is the “genderless obese body” described here a metaphor for waste? Am I waste? Do you realize you are talking about me when you talk about this “largeness”? 

I am right here. 

It’s funny to me that any other form of micro aggression would be called and named for the slight or ignorance that it is. This would be done with vehemence and conviction, the social justice flag waving proudly. 

Yet somehow, my humanity and sensitivity are not considered. At all. 

This is not the first time either. I have been concern trolled and judged. Do you think my other forms of privilege insulate me from a lifetime of snide looks, whispers, assumptions, unfair judgements, lost opportunities and violence? Is that okay because it’s my fault? 

Imagine if another genetically determined or even socially determined form of difference was so casually used to illustrate a point? Tropes are tropes because they are a caricature of a monoculturally assumed truth. They harm in the same othering way that explicit exclusion does. 

It must stop. 

And to my other fat friends out there biting your tongue (again. still.) – I feel you. 

And remember our bodies are just that. Our bodies. They are for us to self-determine and self-ascribe their meaning. 

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