Do I Think Fat in This?

When I was little, my parents would lovingly refer to my pooching stomach as baby fat. As I got older, I was told that no, I wasn’t fat, but I just needed to do some sit-ups and hold in my tummy. By middle school and into high school, I knew it could no longer be baby fat. That train had long since sailed and what remained was my own normal, grown-up kind of fat. And it didn’t matter how many times my friends assured me it wasn’t so, or magazine articles told me that we tend to distort our own self-image — I knew.

I was/am/will be fat.

Fat. It’s an ugly inescapable word, and one that I feel I know very well at this point. I think we’ve probably talked together every day. But fat is also an utterly subjective word. The dictionary defines fat as having “a lot of extra flesh on your body,” and that is one (very physical) way to think about fat. But what constitutes “extra flesh?” How much extra flesh makes a person fat and not soft, chunky, chubby, skinny, obese, thin, fit, large, small, big-boned, curvy, round, thick, or tiny?

I’ve found no definitive judge of fatness, especially as the criteria for what is fat and what is not-fat seem to vary with every person. Still, “fatness” and its opposite can be found everywhere in our culture. Most often fatness is a number on the scale every morning, and a person can judge him or herself based on how close he/she is to that number.

But cultural measures of fatness also include:

• The number on the size tag of the jeans you put on, and those tiny S’s, M’s, L’s and XL’s on your shirt
• The type of food you eat for breakfast
• The way you do or don’t exercise
• Your travel methods to school and work
• Your analysis of your cubicle mates and classmates’ appearance
• The amount of space you take up on the bus
• The wafting temptation of the donut store you pass everyday
• The vacation pictures you plan to take on your upcoming trip, AND
• The documentaries about eating disorders you see on TV.

That’s not even considering how you think about, and often criticize your own body directly.

Personal, physical fatness is also visible in:

• The roundness of your cheeks
• The double chin that forms when you pull your chin to your throat
• The protrusion (or non-protrusion) of your collar bone
• The extra, flabby skin of your upper arm
• The letters that follow the numbers on your bra tag
• The length, width and depth of your stomach
• The thickness of your thighs, AND
• Even the circumference of your toes.

At some point before beginning this article, I have considered every one of the factors on this list in relation to my own body. But this list is also sadly incomplete. We have an endless number of gauges on which to judge fat, but no universal understanding of it.

Criteria for fatness varies across minds and across contexts, which is why when celebrities comment positively on their own “fat,” like Jennifer Lawrence did famously in 2011, it’s with mixed reviews from the public.

“I’d rather look a little chubby on camera and look like a person in real life, than to look great onscreen and look like a scarecrow in real life,” the actress said, and it seems to have become a theme among celebrity women and media outlets to highlight celebs who have positive things to say about weight and body image.

Though positive comments are good comments, isn’t there still a little voice whispering in your ear, “yeah, she can say that her body image doesn’t matter and that she’s ‘big,’ but come on. She still looks absolutely gorgeously thin.” But in the context of the movie, television or music industry, there seem to be different standards for judging fat, and within those contexts, it’s not hard to see how a woman or man could feel or be judged rotund when in the “real world” they’d be thought to have an AMAZING body.

Then what does “fat” actually mean? It seems like almost anything, which is basically the same as it means almost nothing. We use the word “fat” derogatively and crudely, and it seems to have almost no tangible effect but to give body image issues to all kinds of people (even though I’ve focused a lot on women) of every shape and size.

If we want to actually change the way people think about fat, then let’s change the word itself. Let’s change the ways we think about people’s bodies by changing the words we use to think about them. Let’s be “healthy” instead. Healthy is a great word because it isn’t a judgement on size or appearance, but a way to think about how people are taking actions to help themselves live longer, richer lives. Healthy doesn’t look like anything in particular because it’s about internal processes, both mental and physical, and personal choice and action.

I have fat, but I don’t know if I am fat. I do know that I am a person, and each and every day I try to be, think and feel healthy. And though sometimes I fail, I’ve learned that the results of my lifestyle aren’t only in the way I look, but the way I think about how I look. If you think you’re fat, then you will be fat. So why not choose to think something positive and progressive instead? Why not think healthy?