Dr. Pattie Thomas and her husband Carl Wilkerson wrote a book called Taking Up Space: How Eating Well and Exercising Regularly Changed My Life
The first chapter of the book has 10 fat myths. As I read them, I had so many ideas and thoughts and things I wanted to say about each one. I contacted Dr. Thomas and she said that it would be okay for me to use her list to talk about each of the myths here. So–welcome to a 10-week Thursday series.
Myth number three on the list: Fat is unwanted.
I’ll be honest. I really struggled with buying that the statement “fat is unwanted” is a myth.
I mean, fat is clearly unwanted, right? Few people really, truly want it, and in my mind as I was thinking this week about the wanted-ness of fat, I was startled to find that when I tried to think about people who might actually really want fat it was really difficult.
Yep. This is one I really had to unpack and take a look at, if only so I could understand my own reaction to the idea.
Do I want my own fat? I am getting more comfortable in my own skin. I’m getting more comfortable with having a body that doesn’t conform to the beauty myth. And it doesn’t make sense to wonder what I’d do if given the choice to be thin, because I won’t ever be given that choice any more than I’ll ever have the choice to be short or have blue eyes.
In fact, every other part of my physical self, I’m capable of accepting fully the way it is. Curly hair, big feet, big boobs, a round face, being tall, having brown eyes–all of it. I don’t put moral judgments on any of it. I don’t try to pretend that I can change any of it. I don’t hate any of it. I don’t feel the need to embrace any of it. It just is.
So perhaps the idea of fat being unwanted is goes back to the magical thinking I talked about the other day. Collectively, most of Western society is caught up in the huge bubble of magical thinking that says that if we are good enough, and diligent enough, and would just stop being lazy, slothful gluttons, then we can get rid of the fat we don’t want.
Try this experiment. Next time someone you love talks to you about their most recent diet or how they need to do something about their thunder thighs, tell them that you aren’t trying to lose weight. Really watch what happens when you try to bounce your ideas off the walls of their magical thinking. Maybe they’ll miss every point you make so spectacularly that it seems willful (You: I’m eating intuitively. Them: So, you’re saying you don’t care if you get diabetes.) Maybe they’ll get angry, taking your decision very personally. But you’ll see how protective they are of their magical thinking.
Maybe the real myth here is that we can do anything about not wanting fat.
Or maybe the myth is that fat has to be unwanted.
There isn’t any shame in declaring that I enjoy being tall and that I don’t care that I’m taller than my husband. There isn’t any in refusing to go broke and insane trying to make my hair straight. There is no shame in thinking I have pretty brown eyes or liking the shape of my feet. But if I’m going to suggest that I’m okay with being fat, I have to be willing to sift through a bunch of it from myself and from other people.
But, I’m actually finding it hard, as I type this, to say “I want my fat.” It makes me uncomfortable. It pushes against the edges of my personal envelope. What I find myself wanting to say instead is “I want all the parts of my body,” which kind of mitigates the weirdness, the anti-socialness of “I want my fat,” doesn’t it?
Calling “fat is unwanted” a myth means that while many people believe its true that fat is unwanted, in reality it is wanted.
Is it? When people say they want to be thin, when they spend their money and their time and their physical and emotional energy on attempt after attempt to lose weight, is it really their fat they don’t want?
I mean, even people who have no ill effects as a result of their fat want to lose it. Lots of people who are in the illusive normal BMI range want to lose their fat. People who can pass for thin want to lose their fat (ever here someone say that they’re fatter than they look?) In other words, wanting to lose fat is not reserve for fat people and it is certainly not reserved for sick fat people.
So are we really feeling something else, and just blaming it on our fat?
Maybe a desperate desire to fit in that never really stops after middle school?
Maybe we’re scared by all the booga-booga about fat trying kill us. Who wouldn’t want to lose a serial killer that’s wrapped around your abdomen?
Maybe we want to conform to the myth that only thin is beautiful, and if we could internalize the idea that we are already beautiful, our fat could become more welcomed and less unwanted.
I’m the fat one in a relatively slender family. My sister is four inches taller and weighs 100 pounds less than me. My decision to stop trying to lose weight has made her so uncomfortable that she can’t even talk to me anymore. I’m always slightly uncomfortable eating in front of them, always making sure to make a ‘healthy’ choice and eat a little less than everyone else–and still I get accused of eating McDonald’s five times a week by my brother on my public Facebook page. I’m pretty sure that my dad believes his concern about my weight has to do with my health, but I know he thinks skinny girls are prettier. He left my mom for a skinny woman, didn’t he?
Being fat can be an emotionally exhausting experience, especially when you’re putting most of everything you have into trying desperately to be one of those very rare birds who can do something about not wanting their fat. Being ‘other’ in your own family is a whole lot less than fun.
And what about the people who aren’t fat, but spend so much of their resources on the desperate desire to keep it that way? Those who have managed to actually lose their weight and then spend the rest of their lives in some kind of cat-and-mouse chase trying to keep it from finding them again. Or those who live in fear of one bite too much sending them spiraling into fatness.
Yeah, there is a lot of baggage that goes along with being fat or even just the idea of fat. Lots of it isn’t even rational, but that doesn’t make it any less real. And I think maybe in the end that’s what this myth is about. It isn’t the fat we don’t want. If we lived in a world where body types were morally neutral, we wouldn’t spend any more time trying to get rid of horizontal inches than we do vertical inches.
What if its the pain and humiliation and shame and rejection–and a million other things that are so hard to articulate we don’t want, and it’s just easier to say that we don’t want fat?
What do you think about the idea of “fat is unwanted” being a myth?
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Shaunta,
You are so right! Body types have not been allowed to be morally neutral. (Look at mine, for instance.)
My Cerebral Palsy means that in some unenlightend minds, I am either considered a saint, or the worst of sinners. (this is hogwash, btw.) Why else would God have put me in the body I have? I’m only just recently coming to realise what we who do not fit the “Norm” have been put through. And for what? It’s insane.
Your brother verbally (textually?) assaults you on Facebook about what you eat?
I can’t honestly say I don’t want my fat, but I am learning to accept it and acknowledge it will probably never go away. I can also say that if I had ten magical wishes, being thin would be included, but if I only had five it wouldn’t make the cut (I think).
Not as a general rule, but he did last week pretty much out of the blue.
Dear Shaunta:
I know I will cause some people to be uncomfortable, but if given the choice, I’d rather be thin. Honestly. I tried so hard to be, but never succeeded. Yes, I would like to be slim. Yes, it is easier to say than «I want my fat». The difference now, is that i KNOW I’ll never be, and I’m now more accepting of my fat (hey, I just bought a bikini… at 230 pounds!) .
I think that saying «fat is unwanted is a myth» can be understood as «the fact that nobody accepts a fat body is a myth». Personally, my 2 ex-boyfriends were REALLY, REALLY slender, I could see their ribs poking out. But, they ate like there was no tomorrow, and clearly preferred fat women. I know that 2 is no big deal, but it already proofs that «nobody wants fat» is a myth.
As for all the assdoucheries given to you by your brother, your sister (frankly, she does not speak to you because of your fat? She’s not even worth worrying for.) and your father, stand up and tell them they have no fucking right to do that to you.
Yes, being fat is emotionally exhausting and sometimes I’m so fed up… but you, and all our fellow FA fatties, have come a long way. Is it wrong to say I don’t like neither want my fat? I don’t think so, as long as I don’t buy anymore in the «fantasy of being thin» , the peer pressure and the diet industry. It’s okay to be honest, and it’s okay to not be accepting everyday. It’s okay to be downright dreaming of being thin, sometimes. The important thing is, keeping the beat on the road to FA and knowing that it’s going to be a long and winding road, but really worth it. You don’t have to be all that «happy» with your fat to practice HAES and FAT; be yourself, try, try again, think, let the time flow, question.
I hope that these reflexions help you as much as they helped me.
As I was reading your post, I was also reminded of essential fat. I looked it up and the first hit was
http://www.drweil.com/drw/u/id/QAA53794
Women NEED at least 12% body fat for proper body function and 13 – 35% (depending on their age) is healthy (whatever that means). Men NEED at least 3% body fat for proper body function and 8 – 24% (again depending on their age and that mystical state “health) is healthy.
So that much fat, everyone who truly wants to be healthy wants, whether they acknowledge it or not.
As for the rest of my fat, I’ll have to think about it’s un/wantedness. Thanks for the though provoking post.
Thank you, Susan – the reminder about essential fat was just what I needed to put this post into focus!
I have no trouble saying that – like @curvygurl below – I like my fat. But “want” seemed like a strange word, orthogonal and irrelevant – I was thinking my response to this post would be something about rejecting the rigid binary of wanted/unwanted (especially the connotation of active desire/repulsion that the word “want” carries) as if there were no other possible options. (Though that’s probably what’s up with the anti-FA folks who complain that we’re “glamourizing” fatness.)
But then I hit this comment, and realized that, yes, I do want my fat – I am, and have been for most of my adult life, in a weight/size range that seems to be what supports the best balance of mental, physical, and emotional well-being for me. Since I definitely do want that well-being, I also want the amount of fat that best supports it.
Sunflower
That’s funny, Sunflower, because when I saw that Dr. Thomas’ third myth was “fat is unwanted,” I was like–oh man, this one is going to be hard. Because who in the hell WANTS fat? And I really had to examine where that came from and how closely tied it was to the beauty myth and it was just really an enlightening thing to think about. I realized that there are so many negative things that I associate with being fat that it’s really hard to disentangle them. But it is those things I don’t want. If they were gone, I could be neutral about being fat–I could even want my fat in the same way I want, say, my gallbladder or appendix without feeling the need to have a love affair with them–even though I could technically survive without them.
Continuing the “that’s funny”: I had my gallbladder out just over a year ago, and one of my flippant ways of speaking of it is to use the metaphor of a relationship that went irretrievably sour – I guess it’s an extension of “my guts hate me,” which was my initial description of the problem, before I figured out what exactly was going on.
I don’t miss it, and “breaking up” with it improved my well-being considerably, so it makes a good contrast here.
Sunflower
I am not fat. I am a thin but flabby woman of middle age. Sometimes I feel like I should not be reading and responding to these posts about fat because I don’t belong. But yet I am under the assumption that Shaunta is welcoming to anyone who identifies with her HAES cause–please correct me if I am wrong!–and I try to be sensitive to the feelings/triggers of true “rad fatties” when I am posting.
So this particular post I feel like I have no right to comment on, but yet, I could not help but think back to the ways certain friends and family members have treated me too, in using the word “fat” as a weapon to hurt me. I think there is something important here that I can’t quite put my finger on, but I’m going to throw it out here so that Shaunta and anyone else can put it into the proper context with the other social aspects of fat you have been considering.
–My “best friend” in high school consistently telling me my thighs and nose were bigger than hers, even when it was clearly not true at a glance. It was so puzzling to me that I did not call her on it–I knew it had to do with her own self-esteem.
–My MIL famously commenting on how big my butt was and how it was offensive that you could see my pantylines. At the dinnertable. In front of my whole family and FIL, who of course all look at my butt–I was in the kitchen with my rear to them while reaching high for a bowl from the top shelf. Oh, and I was postpartum and was still in my “big” pants. Because it is so ingrained not to rise to her jabs, I just brushed it off and acted like it did not matter. But to this day it still burns. Who would comment on someone’s butt rudely to their face to begin with, let alone in front of male family members? And to strike such a sensitive blow to a woman who is postpartum, for crying out loud–is just pure mean-spirited lunacy.
–same MIL who, at one of her craziest moments, told me to get off my “fat ass. ” This from a woman who is one of the most self-righteous “christians” around. Now, i actually laughed in her face at this one, since as I said I am a thin woman–and not postpartum–and she was clearly being just mean and crazy. But isn’t it interesting that of all the things she could have said to me in her meanest, most vicious moment, she came up with “fat ass?”
–my MIL, my FIL, and pretty much all of DH’s family (the older generation) have commented more than once (MIL all the time) about how much I eat and how much food is on my plate. Never mind that I am on my third helping of salad, or that I have chosen more green beans for dessert instead of pie–they all make negative comments. And have actually warned me that I will get fat if I keep eating so much.
There is something clearly going on in our culture in our loathing of fat, so that even a thin person can be subjected to some of the hateful reactions you have been mentioning. And so the very idea of “fat” is used as a vicious tool of shame and pain you can use to hurt other people, make yourself feel momentary better/superior, deflect your own trauma, I don’t know. I’m just throwing out my experiences/observations in case someone can put them in the puzzle. Clearly our cultural problem with fat actually has nothing to do with other people and their fat–it has to do with something going on inside of us.
These are thoughtful comments. And also–you are welcome here. I think where there is sometimes a problem when someone comes into a fat safe zone who is not fat and says: hey, I feel fat, so I’m just like you. And you don’t do that. Your comments mean a lot to me, and this is my blog–so really, you are welcome. I think it’s pretty well known in the fatosphere that thin allies are important to the cause. I’m so glad to have you as one. XOXOX
I’m a thin ally! Yay! Now I feel truly welcome. : ) Thanks, Shaunta.
When I was 20, I was as thin as a rake. As in, dangerously thin for my height and body type. But there was this ice cream place that made the most wonderful ice cream and every Saturday I’d go and get a double scoop of chocolate ice cream in a cone.
And EVERY Saturday as I was walking down the street eating my fabulous ice cream, some man would tell me to be careful, because eating it would make me fat.
It was the most extraordinary thing that so many people took it upon themselves to harass me about something that was so innocent and pleasureable. I still have no idea why people feel it’s OK to make comments like that.
how cruel, to purposefully strip the pleasure of any woman’s double-scoop chocolate ice cream!!!!!
I can sympathize, Blessed. I also agree with you on your last statement: “Clearly our cultural problem with fat actually has nothing to do with other people and their fat–it has to do with something going on inside of us.” I was disturbed by one of my friends when he told his ex-girlfriend they would have serious problems if she ever got fat. And it’s not limited to women for him – he has such a disdain and loathing for all people who are not as physically fit as him (he was in the army!) that I wonder if he lashes out at less-fit people because of some terrible fear inside of him. I don’t think that fear is “becoming fat,” but rather, what “fat” represents to him – lack of self control, lack of discipline, lack of willpower. All three are things he already lacks, so his only way to comfort himself and deny that he lacks these things is to boast that he is not fat. Truly sad.
And Shaunta, I love your blog. It’s very well written, thoughtful, funny, and my short attention span is held throughout the entire article.
Taliya, I think your friend unwittingly provides a great argument for not losing weight. I would not want to attract someone like that in the first place. I would also bet that he’d prefer a thin woman of average fitness to an extraordinarily fit and fat woman. (I am neither.)
This reminds me of Linda Bacon’s essay “Reflections on Fat Acceptance: Lessons Learned from Privilege” (http://www.lindabacon.org/resources.html) where she talks about why and how fat acceptance is important to her as a thin person. It’s a good read.
Oh, and one more thing–has anyone seen the movie “City Island”? I actually don’t recommend it, as it was mediocre and had some terrible story development. BUT it has a sub-plot of a large woman living next door and the teenage son is so turned on by her. As the story goes on, it comes out that she has a webpage where people can buy memberships to watch this large woman cook and eat all kinds of high fat, yummy food. The teenage boy ends up finding the site, stalking the neighbor, she figures out his interest, and invites him to join her in shopping, cooking, and eating. The idea is that his particular fetish is getting off on watching “fat” women get pleasure from food. The actress who played the large neighbor was so believable, so sassy, and her job was to act as if she was sexy. As in she was confident in her sexuality and glowing with satisfaction. The movie ends with the son inviting a very, very slighly overweight girl from his school over to the neighbors house to join in the, um, orgies.
The creepies caused by this sub-plot of a kid and a neighbor doing sexually-toned things behind closed doors without the parent’s knowledge aside (another interesting tangent–was the scenario “safe” because she was a large woman, and could not be a true sexual threat? the latent grad student in me is now itching for some rhetorical analysis of fat women in movies. . . ), it was refreshing to see a large woman being played as a hottie. What does a large woman IRL think about it, though?
Last i saw it was available on instant download on nexflix if anyone is curious.
Wow – this is a powerful post, something that really gets ya thinking. I was thinking about my fat on my way to work this morning – actually I have been for the last few days. And I realized that I like my fat. I like my curves and softness. It’s who I am. I kind of wish that I was a smaller fattie because I would have an easier time finding clothes. But hey – I’m healthy either way. I haven’t read Dr. Thomas’s book, but I’m going to buy it.
I agree with Curvygurl – this is a powerful post and really made me think about what both the words ‘fat’ and ‘wanted’ mean to me. I’m short and pudgy and while the people in my life rarely hassle me about it, I find that lurking at the edges of FA brings my body type into my mind more often than previously. I don’t really mind being fat (arguably, I mind being five-one more than I mind being fat!) but ‘want’ is so loaded, such a loaded term. After I read this post my brain was all, “Fat, the actual tissue itself? That squishy yellow stuff I see on those plastic surgery shows? The stuff I see them cut through, and it looks so fake, and I can grab a roll of my belly and cognitively know it’s the same stuff but it doesn’t feel like it should be? That stuff? I don’t want that. Ew.”
I think it comes down to the difference between thinking, “I have a body, and it has fat on it” vs. “I have a fat body.” I’m inclined to think the latter, but then that means when people do object to ‘my fat’ they’re objecting to all of me.
Hi Shaunta,
I love your site : ) I read this post last week and I’ve been mulling it over ever since. I think of the “fat is unwanted” statement as a myth from a slightly different angle. As someone who spent the majority of her almost 48 years in a frantic and exhausting effort to maintain a size 2 with a body that stubbornly wanted to be nearer to a size 16-18, it is clear to me that my fat was only unwanted because I believed that it stood between me and the things I so desperately wanted–love, happiness, success. It’s a hard process, but I am now much happier and more comfortable living with a size 16/18 body, and what is ‘unwanted’ is not my fat but rather the societal judgements that are the true obstacles to achieving my desires. I hope this makes sense, but to my mind the statement “fat is unwanted” is not only a myth it is also a misdirection away from the societal beliefs/problems that really should be unwanted.
I am really enjoying your blog, and thank you so much for this series. I’m really interested in taking a look at Dr. Thomas’s book now.
I’m also having trouble with the word choice. “Want” to me implies desire — that it is better than whatever alternative and that I would actively try to be here if I wasn’t already. And it is not like that. I am happy with my body, but I can also imagine being happy with another body that was the result of a different mix of love and genetics. If we take it as simply the opposite of “not want”, though, then I suppose technically it’s applicable. Because I don’t *not* want my fat.
“If we lived in a world where body types were morally neutral, we wouldn’t spend any more time trying to get rid of horizontal inches than we do vertical inches. What if its the pain and humiliation and shame and rejection–and a million other things that are so hard to articulate we don’t want, and it’s just easier to say that we don’t want fat?”
Yes, yes, yes! A thought experiment I do with all sorts of things is to think about what I feel about something with the societal judgment element removed. Helps to imagine being on a desert island.
What I found is that I feel good inside of my fat body. And there are other fat bodies that I appreciate and enjoy. To acknowledge that was *huge* for me. It really put everything right into perspective. And the older and more ornery I get 
the less it affects me when someone has their nose in the air about me like they would about a bad smell. It really does just come down to preferences, and manners.
The one thing though that does still bother me about being a fat person in a thin person’s world is that it is hard to fat clothes in cute styles that fit properly. But that’s not the fat’s fault. I save all my dissatisfaction for the clothing industry.