Are We Ready for the Truth? I’m Fat.

I am fat. That is neither a confession nor a plea for reassurance. It is not coded self-loathing nor an invitation for affirmation. It is a description of my body. Yet the moment I say it aloud, people rush to correct me, as though I have misidentified myself. “You’re not fat,” they insist, with the urgency of someone extinguishing a small fire. The discomfort is not mine. It is theirs.

Fat is not an identity. It is not a character assessment or a moral condition. It is a descriptor of a body. The body is a vessel that carries who we are; it is not the entirety of who we are. When I describe my body as fat, I am not reducing myself. I am describing the state of the vessel.

Photo by Aziz Acharki on Unsplash

We have constructed a culture in which self-acceptance is treated as a moral virtue—but only when it follows approved language. Love your body, we are told, but do not describe it in ways that unsettle others. Do not call yourself fat unless you meet some publicly agreed-upon threshold of visible obesity. Even then, love your body so fervently that you risk denying medical consequences. Do not say you want to lose weight. That suggests betrayal—of yourself, of your body, of the community built around body positivity.

Apparently, the betrayal is toward the excess itself, as though the excess—the “fat”—defines us.

The policing is not subtle. It arrives as accusation. If you call yourself fat, you must have low self-esteem. If you want to lose weight, you must be battling a distorted body image. If you acknowledge excess, someone will rush to reassure you that you are wrong about your own body. The implication is clear: self-description requires approval from the positivity police.

But what if “fat” is not an insult in my mouth? What if it is simply a neutral descriptor?

My body feels different at different weights. My joints protest under strain. My waist expands, and my center of gravity shifts. I find myself out of breath during routines that once felt effortless. I remember how my body once moved, and I miss that ease. When I say I am fat, I am not issuing a verdict on anyone else’s body. I am describing how my own feels to inhabit.

What unsettles me most is the reflex of reassurance—even in the face of reality. I have watched someone openly list the health issues they are experiencing because of excess weight—joint pain, chronic fatigue, rising blood pressure, glucose levels climbing into dangerous territory—only to be met with an immediate chorus of “You’re perfectly fine as you are.” The instinct is kindness. The effect can be denial.

For those who are medically obese, denial can be deadly. The American Society for Metabolic and Bariatric Surgery reports that excess weight is associated with hundreds of thousands of deaths annually in the United States. This does not mean weight is the sole cause in every case, but it is a significant contributing factor to cardiovascular disease, diabetes, certain cancers, and other life-threatening conditions.

My body is fat. I love myself enough to want it to be healthier, stronger, and free of pain. Wanting change in oneself is not betrayal. It is self-care. It is self-love. That is true whether the change is physical, emotional, professional, or relational. Change is not disloyalty to who we are. After all, change is the only constant in life, as Heraclitus observed.

If self-love requires that I pretend excess weight carries no consequences, then it is not love. It is avoidance dressed as virtue.

And that is the deeper question beneath body positivity. This is not only about weight. It is about truth. What kind of positivity prefers comfort over clarity? What kind of compassion refuses to name what is plainly harming us—whether in our bodies, our habits, our relationships, or our culture?

This is not an indictment of kindness. It is a call for intellectual honesty. Affirmation should not require the suspension of reality. Support should not require silence about consequence.

We call it kindness. But is it?

What if we respected one another enough to tell the truth—not with cruelty and not with shame, but with clarity? What if positivity were measured not in soothing words, but in healthier bodies, steadier minds, stronger boundaries, and lives that feel fully inhabited?

Are we prepared to live with that kind of honesty?

_____
More essays:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

At the Intersection of Law & Humanity: Immigrants

Image
Americans who believe in enforcement are not automatically endorsing cruelty. Americans who believe in compassion are not automatically rejecting the rule of law as it applies to all of us. Yet in our current climate, those positions are treated as mutually exclusive. Immigration, perhaps more than any other issue, has become the stage on which we rehearse our all-or-nothing instincts. Photo by frank mckenna on Unsplash I am Korean American. I carry my U.S. passport card with me everywhere I go. Some of you already know that. It has quietly become my default form of identification. I did not wait for a second inauguration to begin doing that. The election itself was enough. My parents waited years for lawful permanent residency before we immigrated to the United States. I became a citizen after I turned eighteen. I identify as Korean, a heritage I am immensely proud of. I am also a citizen of the United States. An American. It is simple. It is also complex. I believe a sove...
Read more

Single Gal’s Kimchi Risotto

Image
I love risotto, but I don’t think I’ve ever shared a perfectly delicious single-serving version here. If I have, I apologize in advance. This is simply the one I am making now. Risotto is comforting, especially after a challenging day, but it is also unapologetically high-maintenance. It wants to be eaten straight off the stove, demands attention while cooking, and rarely rewards reheating.  This is a risotto for nights when you are cooking for yourself, pouring a glass of wine, and calling it an evening. No scaling up. No containers waiting. Just a bowl, a spoon, and the pleasure of finishing the whole thing while it is still glossy and alive. This recipe is a small homage to my Korean heritage, borrowing its spirit from kimchi fried rice, and to my enduring affection for Italian food. It is deeply savory, gently funky, and indulgent without being spicy. Exactly enough for one. Girls want to have fun, after all, and no one wants to spend more than twenty minutes standing over a po...
Read more

Are we living in 1864?

Image
My heart sank. There it was on my iPhone: New York Times headline- Justice Dept. Asks for 1-Day Sentence for Ex-Officer Convicted in the Killing of Breonna Taylor . It took me back to 2020. The deaths of Ahmaud Arbery, Breonna Taylor, and George Floyd made headlines and triggered Black Lives Matter protests across the nation. Thousands of us marched, raised our fists, shouted Black Lives Matter, kneeled, shouted I can't breathe, and continued to march as we shouted no justice, no peace.  It was the year that made many of us realize that we hadn't changed much since the brutal torture and murder of Emmett Till in 1955. He was only fourteen years old when two white men brutally beat and killed him. There was no justice for Emmett Till 70 years ago. The judge rejected the Justice Department's sentence recommendation of one day and sentenced Brett Hankison to 33 months in prison for violating Breonna Taylor's civil rights. Was it justice?  Photo by Ryan Stone on Unsplash I...
Read more

Don't Bend It Like The Beckhams

Image
I didn’t know the Beckhams had three sons and one daughter. I also didn’t know that their eldest is named Brooklyn Beckham, or that he is, depending on the bio you are reading, a photographer, a model, and a media personality. I was blissfully unaware of all of this until a family feud began surfacing on my Instagram feed, at which point I learned, somewhat against my will, that he is married to Nicola Peltz. Photo by Kristina Flour on Unsplash And who, exactly, is Nicola Peltz? I had to Google her to confirm that she does, in fact, have film credits. No shade, just verification. I don’t follow celebrities like scripture, but I follow enough to notice when someone’s cultural footprint expands suddenly. In this case, it seems undeniable that both Brooklyn and Nicola have garnered far more attention from their very public tension with Victoria Beckham and David Beckham than from their individual careers. This is not shocking. The Beckhams are among the most meticulously managed fami...
Read more