Well, Hello There

It seems like I can’t go anywhere in NYC without getting stared at. Sometimes I’m pretty sure people are checking out my amazing shin tattoo, but often it feels more like they’re judging me because I don’t dress how fat people are “supposed” to dress. And the more skin I show, the more states I get. 

I wear shorts and short skirts. Crop tops and tank tops. At the beach I wear a bikini. None of these are things fat chicks are told we should wear. 

But vertical stripes and all black bore me. I like fashion and trends, and I have every right to wear the same things skinny women do. 

It’s a reflection on the other person when they stare, not on me. They are the one with a narrow view of what constitutes attractive clothing, or of some BS set of “rules.” I’m the one with awesome clothes and a creative sense of style. 

So I stare back. Hard. Sometimes this results in a compliment or smile — ok, those are the people who were looking out of admiration instead of judgment. But more often they just look away. It’s possible they’re just too shy to say anything, but when there isn’t even a smile, it certainly feels like negativity. That’s my experience with it, living in my fat body every day in a city that hates fat people. 


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