Bigger Bodies Aren’t Bad. Judgement of Them Is. (Personal Essay)

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Note: Now and then, I will publish personal pieces. I do it to keep my writing muscles strong. Thanks for indulging me. -Kathleen

I have been fighting with body image since I was a preteen. In eighth grade, I was happy that a bad case of bronchitis forced me to lose 20 pounds. When I was a freshman in high school, I became anorexic, starving myself for the sake of being thin so boys would like me. By senior year, I had gained at least 40 pounds, and finding a dress for the prom was an emotional chore. When I was a sophomore in college, I lost 70 pounds and managed to keep it off until I became pregnant with my son in 2003, when I gained close to 80 pounds. No one told me to bring maternity clothes to the hospital, so imagine my shock when my pre-pregnancy clothes didn’t slide onto my postpartum body. I cried for months because it felt like the pains I took to stay thin in my 20s and early 30s were all for naught.

If you met me, you might be surprised that I inhabit a bigger body. I have been what is considered “plus-size” for almost 20 years, with my weight wildly fluctuating. In 2020, I had a bad case of pneumonia and lost 25 pounds. Who cared about my lungs when I could weigh myself daily and see a smaller number on the scale? The closer I got to my pre-baby weight, the better. I purposely didn’t eat or ate very little because I thought it was my big chance to be thin again. Fast forward to today when I saw a new doctor for the first time.

To me, the measure of a good doctor is whether they ask whether you want to be weighed instead of insisting on it. Today, I chose to step on the scale (with my shoes off!!) because I knew that between menopause, working from home, and the way my clothes fit, I had gained weight. I didn’t realize just how much I had gained—20 pounds. Seeing I was on the verge of tears, my new doctor sat down to talk to me. She didn’t treat me like I was a problem to solve, which is often the case. We chatted about bloodwork, my unfortunate genetics, and how to move forward. I appreciated her honesty and compassion, but more than that, I appreciated that she said, “There is nothing wrong with your body.” I, on the other hand, think my body is a problem because society thinks it is, too.

When I was 20, a guy came up to me as I was walking around the West Village in New York City to tell me I was fat. I didn’t date anyone in high school because I was either too thin with a big nose or too fat with a big nose. These were the days of super-thin supermodels and heroin chic. Thin was in, and there was nothing to do but sustain on exactly one fat-free muffin and a cappuccino with skim milk every morning. I’d forgo meals and spend hours at the gym. Finally, I was thin enough that boys who didn’t bother with me when I was big came calling, asking me out. Most of the time, I turned them down. It didn’t matter that I was thin because my self-esteem was in the toilet.

Now, at age 51, I am more confident in my skin, but the wave of weight loss drugs and media reports about them have made body positivity challenging. Let me be clear: I am not against weight loss drugs. I believe in doing what suits you and judge no one for that. I dislike the media narrative that silently judges those of us in bigger bodies. Every headline is like a redo of the 1990s when diet culture peaked. Some media outlets might as well spell it out: YOU SHOULD LOSE WEIGHT. WHY AREN’T YOU LOSING WEIGHT? Some of us in big bodies feel good about ourselves until the media tells us we can’t. Then there are the people who make comments about being unhealthy. I have news: you can have a bigger body and be perfectly healthy or have a small body and be unhealthy. Last year, I started taking Muay Thai boxing classes and outlasted some of my fit, muscular male compadres. My body has done headstands in hot yoga and has run 5K races. My body has given birth to two beautiful children who are my gems. I constantly preach to my 16-year-old daughter that it is not the size of her clothes or the number on the scale that matters. Instead, it is what is in your head and heart. She is a student-athlete and in tremendous shape, but I know it’s tough being a teenager with images of perfection on every social media platform. I only wish I believed more of what I told her. Some days, I do.

My parents were not small people, but they weren’t always thin. My father’s weight went from beer belly to fit and trim many times, and though I loved him dearly, his comment that I have such a pretty face—if only I’d lose weight—was damaging. To her credit, my mother didn’t force the issue, but she also wasn’t equipped to talk to me about it like I do with my daughter.

There was a time when I was obsessed with my weight. While I am no longer that person, I am sensitive. I love that there are plus-size people teaching body positivity and brands that offer extended sizing, even though most of those items are only available online. Bigger bodies deserve to wear nice clothes, go out for good meals, and, most importantly, be loved and adored. There is a plethora of reasons someone might have trouble losing weight: depression, medication, thyroids, fibroid tumors, and more. It’s none of our collective business why someone has the body they do, even though I ask that question of myself. Why couldn’t I have better genetics? Why can’t I have a fast metabolism so I don’t gain five pounds by just looking at pasta? I will never have the answers to these questions, so I will stop asking them. For now, I will show myself some grace, put on a nice outfit, and go out to dinner.