I’ve always liked the phrase big girl to describe those of us who live past the plus-size dividing line that separates “normal” women from us big, fat freaks. Big girl was always something I heard in the Black community used with affection (go ‘head, big girl, work it out!) or awe (now, that’s a biiiiiiiiiiig girl) but never with contempt in the way “fat” gets used in American culture as a universal insult.
For the record, I think fat should be used as an adjective, the same way tall or young or brown-eyed is used. It’s a physical description, and it doesn’t have to be a bad thing. It’s all in the association. If someone calls me a fat bitch, I’m offended. But if someone calls me that hot fat chick, I’m like, “Well duh! About time somebody recognized that!”
So, who’s fat? Who’s a big girl? It all depends on your point of view. Words like “big” and “fat” are all a matter of context. (So is “normal”—don’t get me started on what the real norm is for American women! Don’t believe the hype!) Big is in the eye of the beholder. I lost 40 pounds and my friend A. tells me, “Pretty soon you’re gonna have to stop calling yourself a big girl.” He might be right. In some people’s minds, at a size 14/16, I am not a big girl at all. But then again, in the eyes of others, I’m huuuuuuuuuge. I figure as long as I’m buying my jeans in the Woman section of Macy’s, my shirts in Torrid, and my panties at Lane Bryant, I get to claim the big girl world as my territory. Notice I said “get to” not “have to.” The big girls I know are all such wild and outrageous and gorgeous and fabulous women that I consider it an honor to stride by chunky self right along beside them.
Do I have my moments of wishing for thinness? I’d be an MFing liar if I said I never, ever longed for a flatter belly or a chance to shop in any store. But damn. This is who I am today. This is the body I have today. If I started right now putting my full energy towards losing weight, it would take a year before I hit the weight I’m “supposed” to be. Who wants to put life on hold for a year trying to do all that? I’d probably just end up looking like one of those amusement park caricature drawings with a tiny body and a gigantic head. Add my big hair to that and I’d just be a walking cartoon. I’d rather stay my lush, voluptuous self, thank you very much. On those days when I wish I could walk through life in a smaller package, I just have to flip the switch to “fake it ‘til you can make it” mode and pretend I’m supercute the way I am until I start to believe it again. I figure if even some of the most beautiful women in the world suffer from I’m-so-ugly-days, me having one is no sign that I’m caving in to the beauty myth, betraying all my big girl friends, and trading in my fat feminist card. I’m just having a moment. I’ll get back to loving me.
And that’s what Big Girl Pride is all about, really. Loving me! Loving you!
It’s not about hating on the skinny girls, or belittling the men who struggle with weight stuff, too. But this is a Big Girl Space. If you enter it, you enter in knowing that in this world, fat is where it’s at. This is our space to be our chunky but funky, plump and pretty, big beautiful selves.
So, welcome to the world of Big Girl Pride. Because life is bigger than a number on a scale!
