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Identity

An open letter to men who will have sex with me but won't date me

"It's one thing if you're not into fat women — everyone has their preferences — but if you want to have sex with us without being seen in public with us, that's emotionally abusive."

Many years before I got together with my boyfriend, I had a sex thing with this guy that I thought was relationship material.

He not only had an amazing body but a great personality as well. I was honest when I met him that I was looking for something more than just sex, and he led me to believe that was what he wanted, too.

Between mind-blowing sex sessions, we ordered in, played video games, and watched movies — couple things but without the label. But when I tried to get him to go to a show or out to dinner with me, he refused. My frustration grew as the months went on, and one day I confronted him.

"Why don't we ever go anywhere?"

"We have everything we need here," he answered while simultaneously distracting me by caressing my shoulder blades.

"We actually don't," I said. "I'm hungry, let's check out that new Indian place around the corner."

"No! We might run into one of my buddies," he said, moving his body further away from me. The underlining meaning was clear — he couldn't take the chance that someone he knew would see him with me.

He needed to keep our relationship on the DL so that no one would ever suspect that he enjoyed spending time with me — a fat woman.

He was super fit, so obviously that's the kind of woman he wanted to be associated with, the kind he could be seen with at the Indian place.

When I realized he was ashamed of being seen with me, I felt as if I had been punched in the stomach — a place where much of my pain already resided.

To him, I was fuckable but not dateable. He dumped me soon after that conversation.

He did me a favor by not continuing to lead me on. Otherwise, I might still be trying to prove to him that I was worth any shit he might have gotten from other people. If I was still his secret shame, I might not have met my next boyfriend, so thanks, athletic asshole.

I had hoped that, in this age of body positivity, men would no longer need to hide their desires when it comes to fat women.

But I was wrong.

It's just a sad fact: Many men who are sexually attracted to fat women are ashamed of it.

They're OK with banging a fat girl, but they don't want to hang out with her — someone might judge them for it.

It's one thing if you're not into fat women — everyone has their preferences, and not every body type appeals to everyone. But if you find larger women hot and you want to have sex with them without being associated in public with them, that's emotionally abusive.

Everyone should have the freedom to express their desires openly (as long as there's consent from both parties). If you modify your behavior and wants to what you think will protect you from criticism and/or ridicule, then you need help because that kind of self-loathing will only grow until it has destroyed you.

Don't act like we're in a relationship if all you really want is to experience what sex with a fat woman is like.

I'll tell you what it's like: It's as amazing and fun as having sex with anyone who's into having sex with you. We don't have magic vaginas, and our breasts don't do any special tricks — well besides the usual, like feed or comfort people.

Fat women are just as hot and sexually gifted as women of other shapes, sizes, and abilities. Being fat doesn't mean we're so hungry for attention that we'll put our own needs aside and do whatever we can to rock your world.

If you're with someone who doesn't make you feel beautiful or who isn't proud to have you on their arm, you need to dump their ass.

Being alone is far better than compromising on what you deserve or being made to feel as if you're someone's big dirty secret.

You're not only dateable, you're lovable and worthy of being treated with respect and love.

I regret not standing up for myself when I discovered the athletic guy was only using me for sex. But at least I learned, as we all should learn, that I'm responsible for being my biggest advocate and to never accepting anything less than what I need.

This article was written by Christine Schoenwald and originally appeared on 06.29.18

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Identity

Women share the unbelievable ways they were treated on planes for being fat

"The most important thing that fellow passengers can do is just acknowledge the humanity of the people they're traveling with."

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Plane rides can be a dehumanizing experience for many

Before moving to London to pursue a degree in anthropology, Stacy Bias had to decide if it was worth getting on the airplane.

"As a woman over 300 pounds, flying was pretty anxious for me," Bias says. Over the years, Bias came to fear being stared at, subjected to rude comments from seatmates, or asked to purchase an extra seat. The anxiety got so bad that at one point, she stopped flying altogether.

With a little determination and encouragement from her partner, who had recently relocated to the U.K., Bias faced down the fear and got on the plane to London. Soon after, she started a Facebook group to offer discussion, support, and tips to other fat travelers who had encountered similar roadblocks. The group quickly grew to nearly 4,000 members and Bias, in conjunction with a research project for her undergraduate dissertation, presented the group with a survey, encouraging members to share their experiences in the air.

"I had to take the survey down after three days because I was overwhelmed with respondents," Bias says. Like Bias, the overwhelming majority of survey takers reported feeling leered at, harassed, and like an unwelcome intruder in a public space.

Bias interviewed nine of the respondents. The result was the short animated documentary "Flying While Fat," which Bias posted to YouTube in 2016.

"The goal of the animation is to humanize fat people," Bias explains.

"I think fat people are talked about a lot — especially fat passengers are talked about a lot — but rarely spoken with."

Some of Bias' subjects love to fly and to travel, but they express frustration at having to endure "the expression" — the look of disappointment and anxiety that crosses their potential seatmates' faces as they walk down the aisle. Others describe having a "hyperawareness" of their bodies at all times, constantly evaluating how much space they take up. Verbal harassment, threats, even physical abuse are common threads in the interviews.

For one participant, the struggle over fat peoples' access to plane space fundamentally comes down to fairness.

"Everyone is fully aware of how much money they spent on those cubic inches," she poses. Because of the ever-shrinking size of airline seats and aisles, fellow passengers, she hypothesizes, are primed to go to the mat over how much room they believe they deserve.

For smaller people, one person's ability sit comfortably in an airplane seat may seem trivial. But for Bias' subjects, it's anything but.

"It's a topic that people feel strongly about," Bias says. "It really impacts the ability of people to partake of the world, to see family, to travel internationally, to go to funerals, to go to weddings. It's a thing that really impacts peoples' life in a profound way."

policy, standardization, customer, disabled

Animation showing the different shapes and sizes of airline travelers.

Image via YouTube video.

Fat flyers, she contends, frequently feel like excess baggage and a problem to be solved — and that, coupled with hostility from fellow passengers, can make them think twice before purchasing a plane ticket.

Bias believes the solution to the problem starts with standardizing customer size policies across the industry and creating more accessible spaces on aircraft.

Currently, those policies are a patchwork. Some airlines, like Alaska and United, require passengers who can't put both armrests down comfortably to purchase an additional ticket. Others, like Delta, simply "recommend" that customers who can't fit comfortably in a single seat do so.

Airlines "need to prioritize the well-being of passengers over profitability so that people literally can fit into the bathroom if they need to," Bias says.

This lack of concern could pose real health risks for some fat flyers. According to Bias, roughly one-quarter of her subjects reported dehydrating themselves before boarding so they wouldn't have to walk down the aisle or attempt to fit into the restroom.

Fat people, she believes, aren't the only ones who could benefit from an industry-wide policy review.

"It's disabled people, it's people with injuries, it's people with long legs. Everybody is deeply uncomfortable on the plane. It's getting more so."

Bias hopes to publish the results of her study in the coming year.

In the meantime, she hopes the film helps smaller flyers understand the frustration and helplessness their fat counterparts often feel in a space where cruelty can sometimes erupt subtly and without warning.

community, sociology, obesity, health and fitness

Animation of various physical shapes each with a heart.

Image via YouTube video.

For passengers of any size, Bias believes a little empathy and respect go a long way.

"The most important thing that fellow passengers can do is just acknowledge the humanity of the people they're traveling with."

This article originally appeared on 12.07.16

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These 3 stories show how we're subconsciously teaching children to be fatphobic.

I was The Fat Girl™ growing up.

Nearly every school and class has one because fatphobia is about normalizing hierarchy and social control. No matter what the relative weight or size spread of the group, there's always a biggest kid.

Recently I was talking to a group of teenage girls for their high school's Women of Color Speakers Series. I talked a lot about what it was like being TFG.

Fatphobia shows up in a lot of different ways, and those ways change over a person's lifetime. Most people only think of stigma as the "moment of impact" — the moment when one person treats another person in a cruel or violent way because of who they are. But stigma is never just those moments; it can happen without the conscious intent of another person and can often seem harmless.

Children in particular are encouraged to assimilate into our ways of knowing and doing, which aren't always awesome — especially when it comes to fatphobia.

Here are some examples of fatphobia that occur in childhood to help illuminate the nuance of it:

1. Exclusively casting fat children as elders, foils, or villains in plays and productions.

Every fall from age 5 to 12, it came time to rehearse the Christmas play at my Pentecostal church. Each year, the plot was a little different but often included a beautiful girl, a boy hero, and a lesson about humility or the true meaning of Christmas. Every year, I, like most of my friends, really wanted a lead part. As hard as I tried, practiced, rehearsed, or memorized, I knew I wasn't the kind of kid who could ever be cast as a lead — because I was fat.

That didn't stop me from wishing, but each time it fell through, I kicked myself for having wanted something so unattainable.

The last time I was in the Christmas pageant, I was cast as Monica, a third-wheel loser who went around chasing the hottest boy in church as he barely tolerated my advances. I was proud of this role because, unlike previous years, I got several lines. For some reason, I was also dressed like a huge bell the entire time. I liked that I made people laugh, but I didn't have the intellectual tools to understand that they were laughing at the familiarity of the insulting trope.

When fat children are consistently cast as the same type of character, we are sending them (and everyone else) a message about what is possible, who deserves to be visible, what heroes (and villains) look like, and who is worthy of positive representation and outcomes.

2. Monitoring how fat children eat.

Science says that children are often hungry. They like the stuff they've seen popularized on television. They like sugar and starchy stuff because it's delicious but also because they're growing. As a child, I was on the receiving end of differential treatment in both directions — sometimes being encouraged to eat less than my smaller peers or being served twice or three times the amount of food without any indication from me that I wanted that.

It's important to recognize that no matter the size of a child, they have the right to have judgment-free eating experiences.

3. Asking fat children to ignore hateful language and behavior.

Children can understand notions like justice and community and are natural self-advocates.

We teach marginalized children to be disempowered. This is facilitated by adults' and peers' sense that certain types of anti-social behavior are normal. Because of our own cultural education, we don't see certain manifestations of sexism ("boys will be boys," especially if they're white boys), fatphobia, and ableism, for example, as a "big deal."

Furthermore, we are sometimes unknowingly committed to the hierarchies that are maintained through anti-social behavior because we see them play out in our own lives.

At school, it is the targeted child's job to self-resolve hateful language and behavior. This sets up the victim-blaming mentality that fat children carry into adulthood. It's never OK when someone targets someone because of their body size. Older children, peers, and adults can help develop easy-to-remember scripts and create communities of accountability where adults and teachers are not the only people capable of mediation or resolution.

There’s this belief that bigger children are more adult-like and can therefore withstand more emotionally or physically.

This is dehumanization and stigma, plain and simple. Childhood is not determined by how small or large a child is. Children — no matter what their size or what they've been taught about their size — deserve to be treated with care and responsibility, free from the stigma we grew up knowing.

This story originally appeared on Ravishly and is reprinted here with permission. More from Ravishly:

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I'm fat. I'm choosing to stay fat. Here's why.

I'm fat.

The kind of fat I am depends on what side of fat you're looking at me from. If you're a thin person, I probably seem very fat. If you're a very fat person, I might seem average to you. To me, I am fat.

A post shared by Joni Edelman (@joniedelman) on Mar 5, 2018 at 10:48am PST

I've been all different sizes. I've been bigger than I am now. I've been smaller than I was in high school. I've been everything in between. Right now I am fat; I don't love it. Because I know what it's like to be smaller, I know that it feels better than I do now. But right now, I'm also happy — not with my body but with my life.

If you're a thin person who has always been thin (or you're a formerly fat person who worked your ass off to be thin), you're probably thinking something like "if you're more comfortable smaller, why not work hard to be smaller?" If you're a fat person, you might be thinking "me, too" or, alternatively, "there are ways to feel good without being smaller."

You're both right. Also, I already know both of those things.

I've chosen different paths to wellness with my body. I have worked to lose weight in a safe and healthy way and been fulfilled and proud of that. I've also eaten cake with reckless abandon and not cared about the upward movement of the scale needle. I have been obsessed with weight loss. I've lived with and recovered from an eating disorder. I've been miserably fat. I've been miserably thin. I've been average — neither fat nor thin nor miserable.

What I am now is the product of a lot of years of self-loathing, a few years of self-loving, and 43 years of being a human being. What I am now is OK.

For most of my life, I have believed that I only needed to accomplish X to be fulfilled.

X might be being thin or having money; it might mean being married or divorced, living in a home or traveling abroad. I have accomplished many of the X's, and I have been proud of those accomplishments. But ultimately, they have never made me happier in my life. I believe now that you are about as happy as you make up your mind to be.

I think it's true: There is a threshold past which you just can't get happier. If you have food and clothing and your other basic needs met, the rest of the stuff isn't paramount to your happiness; it's just accoutrement.

I thought that being thin was the answer to my happiness, but it wasn't. It was the answer to some things — more attention, a wider range of clothing options, fewer sideways glances from my grandmother over the gravy boat — but there were many things being thin couldn't do. Making me happy was one of them.

I know from experience that my weight is almost irrelevant to my happiness. So I am choosing to stay fat.

I could change my body, but I don't want to right now. The reasons I am choosing not to make any changes are both simple and complicated. I have plantar fasciitis, and I don't feel like walking. Walking is an easy way to feel better in your body, but my foot hurts, therefore walking hurts. Yoga does not hurt, so I'm doing that. Walking might result in weight change, but I'm not really thinking about that right now. Instead, I'm focused on healing my foot.

Overall, though, my health is excellent. There are no pressing physiological issues. My blood pressure is great; my cholesterol is fine. I have no compelling health risks motivating me to change my body.

My mental health is stable. I'm focused on my root health. I'm working on healing my body from the inside, using a combination of spiritual, mental, and physical changes. I am not working on changing my physical body because ultimately my physical body, while important, is less important than all of the other things I'm working on.

My body doesn't prevent me from doing the things I want to do.

I can ride my bike, do yoga, chase my kids, and run up and down a mountain and along the beach. So any attempt at weight loss, right now anyway, would be rooted in aesthetics, and the expectation for me to be aesthetically pleasing is one that I won't surrender to because being beautiful isn't that important to me.

A post shared by Joni Edelman (@joniedelman) on Mar 28, 2018 at 12:13pm PDT

We've been taught to value pretty above all of the other things we can be and are: smart, funny, generous, compassionate, kind, caring. But I am not young, and I am not a fool. I know two things: Beauty is fleeting, and the kind of people who care if I'm beautiful are not the people I care to be around.

For all the work women (mostly) do to achieve and sustain our beauty, our bodies will remain in flux. The thing you try to make beautiful now will sag next year. I cannot prevent the varicose veins, the wrinkles, the stretch marks. I will not waste my time trying. And if my partner one day told me that he thought I wasn't beautiful and was no longer interested in me, I would have to tell my partner to get screwed. I don't want to be with someone who values beauty above my intellect or my kindness.

A post shared by Joni Edelman (@joniedelman) on Mar 31, 2018 at 6:40pm PDT

Someone emailed me recently and said she'd read something I wrote a few years ago about being fat.

She wanted to know if I was still "fat and happy." She wanted to know how to let go of the need to feel thin but also find joy. She wanted to know how I found peace in my body. I don't email everyone back, but I emailed her back because I had something to say I thought she would find valuable and that I needed to hear, too. The answer isn't that I found peace in my body — it's that I found peace in my life. Once I located that peace, I realized that the turmoil I felt around my body wasn't stronger than the joy I found in everything else.

This story originally appeared on Ravishly and is reprinted here with permission. More from Ravishly:

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This MTV star didn't let her size stop her from rocking a bikini. You shouldn't either.

Nicole Byer is confident. And why shouldn't she be?

She's a beautiful, sharp-witted comedian, performer, and star of her own show on MTV, "Loosely Exactly Nicole," which is loosely (OK, pretty tightly) based on her life as an up-and-coming actress in southern California.

Photo by Nicholas Hunt/Getty Images.

You may not know her though. By her own admission, people like Byer don't usually have their own shows.

Fat. Black. Dark. Just over 30. Byer isn't at the top of the typical Hollywood casting list, which makes her success hard-earned and refreshing.

"I shouldn't have a show, on paper," Byer told The Hollywood Reporter. "A fat black lady who just f——s people left and right on her show, and we never talk about how she's fat and black? That's crazy! (Laughs.)"

Photo by Mike Coppola/Getty Images for MTV.

It's refreshing to see a fat woman on TV whose sole goal isn't to lose weight. Byer — and the Nicole she plays on TV — are fully-formed, complex, interesting people. She credits actresses like Monique and Queen Latifah for paving the way and making her career and television show possible, but Byer's wit, knack for storytelling, and zest for life didn't hurt either.

Her pluck and enthusiasm aren't just for the cameras. Byer lives out loud. Even on vacation.

Byer and her best friend, Sasheer Zamata of "Saturday Night Live," recently vacationed in Mexico. In between dolphin excursions and cocktails, Byer stayed cool in a collection of fun and sexy bathing suits.

#sofat #sobrave #soamerican #veryfat #verybrave #sofatsobrave #veryfatverybrave #dontbuildawall #causemexicofun what a treat this lil water cave is.
A photo posted by Nicole Byer (@nicolebyer) on Dec 29, 2016 at 6:08pm PST

She captioned many of the images with the hashtags #sofat #sobrave #veryfatverybrave #sofatsobrave. It was a tongue-in-cheek response to stories you typically see about fat women online and in magazines.

#veryfat #verybrave #sofat #sobrave #mexico #mexicanmenloveme #itsweird #butilikeit? #veryfatverybrave #sofatsobrave
A video posted by Nicole Byer (@nicolebyer) on Dec 28, 2016 at 4:25pm PST

Byer uses the hashtags whenever she dons a swimsuit on the 'gram, which is pretty frequently, as she makes time for self-care and fun in the sun.

Bravery has two sides. #veryfat #verybrave #sofat #sobrave #ashyfeet #juicybutt
A photo posted by Nicole Byer (@nicolebyer) on Sep 3, 2016 at 4:07pm PDT

Fat people are expected to feel shame about their bodies. That's bullshit.

I should know; I've been big all my life. We're expected to minimize our bodies and strength and not draw too much attention to ourselves, unless we're the butt of a joke. We're expected to suck it in and take up less space in the hearts, minds, and airplane seats of the world, often sacrificing our physical and mental well-being to do so.

When someone like Nicole Byer comes along and proudly wears a fierce two-piece on her beach vacation it is an act of bravery, but not for the reason you think.

It's an "eff you" to the strangers and trolls who dare ask her to minimize her body or her talent. It's a "hell no" to the Hollywood agents and casting directors who tell actresses they're too big, too old, or too dark for a role. And it's a high-five to women everywhere who ever felt less than or were silenced by who they see (or don't see) on TV.

Photo by Kevork Djansezian/Getty Images for MTV.

Nicole Byer doesn't minimize her body or her talent, and why should she?

With bold patterns, vibrant colors, and even a pizza print, Byer laughs in the face of Western beauty standards and lets her beautiful, big, black body take up space. She stands front and center with a smile on her face, working hard, chasing her dream, and loving the body and mind that make it all possible.

She's not here for your outdated beauty standards. Why should she be? Why should any of us?

Photo by Mike Coppola/Getty Images for MTV.

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Donald Trump's major fat-shaming problem was on full display at the debate.

Another day, another group belittled by presidential candidate Donald Trump.

Women. People with disabilities. Muslims. Jewish people. Black people. Mexicans. Gay people. Prisoners of war. Transgender people. (Did I miss any?)

There's one group, though, that Trump has repeatedly, consistently mocked time and time again throughout his entire career, long before he got into politics — and it's one not enough people are talking about.

Photo by Timothy A. Clary/AFP/Getty Images.

Trump has great disdain for fat* people. And it was on full display during and immediately after the first presidential debate on Sept. 26, 2016.

*Note: I will use the term "fat" to describe people in this article. Unlike Trump's usage, I am using "fat" as an adjective, not an insult.

Let's break down the three fat-phobic things Trump promoted at (and shortly after) the debate with some classic, cold, hard fact-checking.

Trump's two cents: After Hillary Clinton pointed out that Trump has called women "pigs, slobs, and dogs," Trump resurrected and defended his offensive, decade-old remarks against Rosie O'Donnell, claiming "she deserves it, and nobody feels sorry for her."

Fact-check: Calling O'Donnell a "slob" is a play right out of the Fat-Phobic's Handbook of Fallacies. Although our society pushes this narrative, the truth is that being fat does not mean a person is inherently lazy, unhygienic, incompetent, or any of the other negative stereotypes often ascribed to people with bigger bodies — including being a so-called "slob."

Photo by Michael Bocchieri/Getty Images.

Trump's two cents: In a mind-bogglingly random aside, Trump suggested during the debate that "someone sitting on their bed that weighs 400 pounds" could have been the one who broke into the Democratic National Committee's email server — a not-so-subtle suggestion that any know-nothing, inept person could do so.

Fact-check: Again, Trump perpetuated a seemingly inconsequential — but actually pretty dangerous — connection between undesirable traits and having a body that happens to be fat.

"Trump didn’t just express the standard disgust for fat bodies," writer Lindy West penned in The Guardian. "He positioned fat people as dangers to national security. The implications are familiar, even if the context is outlandish: fat people are lazy, bedridden, unscrupulous, untrustworthy, antisocial, gluttonous (for secrets!) and worthless as anything but a punchline."

West wasn't the only one unimpressed. Former Republican rival and Trump supporter Rick Santorum was seemingly just as perplexed as many of us watching at home:

— (@)

Trump's two cents: During the debate, Clinton said Trump allegedly once called former Miss Universe Alicia Machado "Miss Piggy." He doubled-down on his attacks against Machado the following morning — as though her weight would ever be a legitimate reason to condemn her as a pageant winner — explaining in an interview with "Fox and Friends" that Machado had gained "a massive amount of weight" and it had become "a real problem."

Fact-check: In his follow-up interview, Trump didn't even try to deny that Machado's weight had become an underlying issue for him. And that's ... an issue. Instead of using his platform to help change a sexist, fat-phobic industry standard, Trump allegedly threatened to take her crown away after she'd gained weight, and, astoundingly, invited reporters to film her exercising without telling her beforehand in order to show the public she was on a weight-loss regimen.

"It was very humiliating," Machado said years later of Trump's treatment. "I felt really bad, like a lab rat."

Photo by Win McNamee/Getty Images.

Of course, none of this is probably all that surprising to you — even if you're a Trump supporter. Voters have come to expect he'll spout whatever's on his mind, for better or worse. If that means saying something fat-phobic — like bullying overweight people at his rallies, demanding Chris Christie stop eating Oreos, or body-shaming Diet Coke drinkers — so be it.

But really, this isn't about Trump or whether his fat-phobic remarks will change the presidential race. It's about how those remarks hurt us — everyone watching at home.

Fat-shaming is often overlooked, sometimes because it becomes so frequent and so subtle that we get used to it. But we shouldn't.

Many of us have rallied together in defense of other groups — women, Muslims, military families — after Trump has insulted them, and rightly so. We should be doing the same right now for fat people.

Again, it bears repeating: "Fat" should not be an insult. It is an adjective. The problem isn't just that Donald Trump is calling people fat — it's that he uses "fat" as a catch-all term that implies a whole host of other negative, undesirable qualities.

The prevalence of fat-phobia continues to promote real-world discrimination, and comments like Trump's only add fuel to the fire.

Photo by Michael Bocchieri/Getty Images.

Fat-phobic biases by medical professionals means fat people are more likely to receive poor health care services. Being fat means you look more guilty in jurors' eyes. If you're fat, you're more likely to be seen as unhealthy despite the fact you can't actually tell much about a person's health just by looking at their waistline. And because workplace discrimination is a thing, fat women are more likely to get smaller paychecks than their skinnier counterparts. (Isn't it fun when sexism and fat-phobia collide?)

To be clear, Trump's certainly not the only politician who's made fat-phobic remarks — although maybe he's the worst offender? — and expecting him to change his tune before Nov. 8 is unlikely.

I'm not holding my breath, hoping Trump transforms into a body-positivity champion — but I am hoping his fat-shaming will spur some backlash from all of us and the way we treat fat people as a society.

I'm hoping Trump's blunt, non-P.C. style will actually shed a light on how hurtful, ignorant, and dangerous this "tell it like it is" mentality can be when it comes to fat-shaming.

When reality TV show hosts make fat-phobic remarks, it's a problem — but when those remarks are coming from someone who wants to be the leader of the free world, it's an utterly unacceptable show of disrespect and discrimination.

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What it's like going to the doctor as a fat person.

I am visiting my family when my hearing cuts out.

It’s scary to abruptly lose one of your senses. Everything sounds muffled, like the people speaking around me are behind a closed door at the end of a long hallway, distant and unreachable. The pain in my ears is sharp.

I feel my breath shallow and quicken, anxiety beating its hummingbird wings in my ribcage. First, because something is so clearly wrong. And second, because I will have to go to the doctor, and I am fat.

As I walk into the office, I steel myself for the charm offensive I’ll need to wage.

As a fat person, my health is always suspect, and never more than when I step into an unknown doctor’s office.

Image via iStock.

The nurse and I chat away as she takes my vital signs, though I still strain to hear her. As we speak, she takes my blood pressure once, then frowns. She takes it again, then another look. She excuses herself and comes back with another cuff, trying a third time. Nervous, I ask her what the problem is.

“I’m just not getting a good read,” she says, adjusting the second cuff.

“Is everything OK?”

“It’s coming back great, but that can’t be right. Overweight patients don’t have good blood pressure.”

It’s a familiar moment that I’ve come to dread. Even with her trusted equipment, even with the numbers clear as day in front of her, she cannot see that I am healthy. She anticipates poor health, and anything better becomes invisible.

I have entrusted her with my health, and she cannot see it.

Eventually, the doctor enters. Both of my ears are infected, and I’m prescribed antibiotics.

He gives me detailed instructions on how to use the eardrops and advises me to take all of the medicine as prescribed. As the visit wraps up, I ask the doctor if there’s anything else I should do for aftercare.

“You should lose some weight.”

This moment is familiar, too. It leaves me disappointed and unsurprised. When I seek medical care, many providers only seem to see my weight. Whatever the diagnosis, weight loss is its prescribed treatment. I explain what I eat, how much I exercise, my history of low blood pressure, and general good health. It only rarely influences my course of treatment. Because the biggest predictor of my health, even in the eyes of professionals, is my dress size. I have proven myself an irresponsible owner of my own body. Every detail I provide is suspect.

And I am not alone. Many fat people find the doctor’s office — which should be safe, confidential, and constructive — is instead a home for shame and rejection. Health care providers congratulate fat people for their eating disorders, they tell patients they should lose weight if they “want to be beautiful,” and fat people are given lectures on weight loss instead of receiving medical treatment.

Like all of us, health care providers can be products of a culture that teaches us to shame, exclude, and be disgusted with fat people.

Image via iStock.

Often, it can show in their treatment of fat patients.

A growing body of research shows that doctors are less likely to show empathy for fat patients, making many unable to take in important diagnostic information. Doctors are more likely to describe fat patients like me as awkward, unattractive, noncompliant — even weak-willed and lazy. Because despite extraordinary training and expertise in medicine, health care providers are products of a culture that shames and rejects fat people. And those beliefs inform important, sweeping health care policy decisions.

When thin friends and family talk to me about my health, this is a part they almost never imagine: Getting basic health care, from regular check-ups to minor interventions, requires tenacious self-advocacy. Because in the doctor’s office — just like the rest of the world — I am forced to defend my body at every turn just to get my basic needs met. Unlike other patients, I must prostrate myself, prove that I am worthy of treatment.

And that’s made possible by the way we all talk about being fat — all of which muddies our ability to measure health in more complex, precise ways. I think we use “losing weight” and “getting healthy” interchangeably. We reject fat people’s accounts of their own weight loss attempts, opting instead to believe that they simply haven’t tried hard enough, or don’t know how.

When we talk about fatness as the only real measure of health, we bypass many other pieces of the puzzle: nutrition, heart rate, blood pressure, sleep patterns, mental health, family histories. We ignore precise, important measures of health, collapsing all that complexity into the size of someone’s body, believing that to be the most accurate and trustworthy measure of a person’s health. This is what happens to me. My health is disregarded, all because of how I look.

In order to get accurate diagnoses and real treatments to fat patients, we’ll all need to examine our own thinking about fat people and health.

Changing the conversation around fat and health will take more work than that — but it’s a place to start. Because as it stands, few of us are willing to believe that fat people could have health problems stemming from anything other than their fat bodies.

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