Originally posted on Dress Like A Fat (Skint) Mum
Do you know why I started Dress Like A Fat (Skint) Mum?
It has fuck all to do with embracing being ‘curvy’, or body positivity. I’m sorry, but there is no glory in being morbidly obese.
This site isn’t about he barrage of women who, at a size 14, like to jiggle their bellies and tell the world how the represent ‘normal’ women, while jumping on a parenting site bandwagon and paying £50 for a T-shirt that they saw on Instagram.
Those size 14 women aren’t killing themselves with their weight.
The soles on their gold Adidas don’t buckle under the strain of carrying their bulk and compress s much that they feel as if they are walking bare foot on concrete after a week. They don’t get cramp in their ribs as they contort themselves into impossible positions just trying to put their socks on or shave their legs. They don’t live in the constant fear of developing type two diabetes or having a stroke.
When you see body positve campaigns, a bit of back fat and a few pairs of thick thighs aren’t telling you the truth.
They aren’t showing you the hoards of FAT women out there, who can’t buy clothes on the high street because they don’t go up to their size (or if they do, they are fucking ghastly); The women who cancel a night out because they don’t want to be the fat one looking shit in the rubbish, ill-fitting clothes AGAIN, the ones who stay at home, order the pizza they know they shouldn’t be eating, but eat it anyway because they feel so atrocious about themselves.
The women who’s partners are horrid to them about their weight, making them feel worse by comparing them to thinner women.
That is the reality of being obese.
We are fat because we eat too much – something that stems from deep seated issues. Celebrating obesity is akin to celebrating anorexia. It’s a very dangerous thing to do.
My friend Sarah summed it up by saying this:
She’s right. Why are we told to celebrate obesity?
Or is it the sanitised version of obesity that we are supposed to celebrate?
The sort of ‘obesity’ that people mean when they say Jennifer Lawrence (size 12) is a great example to young women. Or that it’s wonderful that ‘curvy’ models are on the catwalk? Because, it’s funny that the plus size models you see are never covered on stretch marks with sagging stomachs, gargantuan, droopy breast and legs that look deformed because of huge thighs.
Or how about a plus size model who has to run off and check her blood sugar? Or who has sleep apnea caused by her weight so bad that she has to sleep with a mask?
We just see the ones that go on This Morning and have toned arms despite being a size 16 and make the rest of us feel worse than if they were stick thin.
Dress Like A Fat Mum is a site for all of you who feel like crap.
And who can’t afford to spend hundreds of pounds on clothes when you feel awful about yourself.
I am sure that none of us want to be fat. But for the moment, we are. I want to help you feel a little bit better about how you look. I want you to go to Karen’s wedding and not feel like the fat, dumpy mate AGAIN while the people you haven’t seen since school snigger behind your back.
Yes, say a huge FUCK YOU to them. I know you will go home and feel shit later and you’ll probably eat two kebabs while doing so. But do it in that flamingo dress that only cost a teener and you’ll feel so much better about yourself.
So much so that one day, you might be in a better place to tackle your demons.