No one ever tells you directly, “You are fat.” Which is strange, considering we live in a country that is obsessed with dieting, exercise, shaping those buns, working those calves, slimming those thighs, shedding those few extra pounds and choosing salads over sandwiches.

We are a society obsessed with “fat”, and specifically, how to “lose” it. And yet, we hate to acknowledge that fat isn’t some evil force that exists out on its own in the world. The fat that we so fear and hate belongs to a human body, and that body belongs to a person, and that person likely has many other traits and attributes besides their body fat. If we talked about fat bodies all the time, we might quickly realize how ridiculous our obsession is; but instead, we only talk about “the fat,” as if it were separate from the person. In conversation at least, we talk about body fat, not fat bodies.

But then there are some of us, maybe even many of us, who do talk about the fat bodies, but mostly just to ourselves. We constantly survey the bodies that surround us: “My thighs are much bigger than that,” but “at my stomach is flatter.” We function quite nicely as our very own fat police, precisely because we never have to speak the words directly. You. Are. Fat.

Why can’t we say it? Plenty of people in other places say it. Go to rural Mexico. They’ll tell you “You’re fat,” and “Eat more tortillas,” and “You’ve gained weight” all in the same sentence: except you feel no shame. But, in the United States, when someone tells you (or you tell yourself), “You are fat,” you are also saying that you should be “less fat.”

No one ever tells me I’m fat because, to be honest: I’m not. And yet, all of the facts and figures somehow get overlooked in the time between when I look in the mirror and when I think to myself “I am fat.” The weird part is, I don’t really think I’m fat. I like my body, and more importantly, I appreciate my body. And yet I still. feel. fat.

To make things worse, I’m supposed to believe that I came up with this crazy idea of ‘feeling’ fat all on my own. Trust me though, I’m not imagining it: society is constantly telling me (and you) that we should feel fat. Regardless of whether our BMI, body type, clothing size or the number on the scale are considered acceptable in society; we are made to feel guilty about our bodies, the things they do and the way they look.

It’s no secret that people on television, people in movies, people in magazines, do not look like me. All of us are constantly exposed to images and ideas on television shows, the news, magazines, movies and the Internet, that are fairly consistent with a societal ideal of what we “should” all look like. But these images and ideas don’t just get produced. They produce something that we call “beauty.”   And they produce “us”, how we see ourselves and each other, and how we see “beauty.” We become women who pinch and prod and poke at their bodies. Who scratch and cut and starve their bodies, because they are not “beautiful” enough. Who subject themselves to horrors of manipulation and abuse and mental oblivion, all because they want to be “beautiful.”

I would love for everyone to feel beautiful. But still, I don’t think it would be enough. I think something is awry in the very idea of bodies being “beautiful.” Our ideas about “beauty” don’t have much to do with making people feel beautiful. The presence or absence of “beauty” is a tool that we use for body policing and body shaming. And as long as we have societal standards of what is “beautiful”, we will have people who are systematically oppressed and excluded from that standard: people made to feel ugly, imperfect, and like they will never be enough.

So, fuck beauty. My body is not here for your viewing pleasure. My body is here for me, and me alone. My body is my life and my world; it’s the only thing in this world that is truly mine. So don’t try to tell me it is ugly. And don’t try to tell me it is beautiful. My body has nothing to do with you.
People have bodies. Bodies have fat. Let’s try to get over it, can we?