Just Say the F Word

It is quite fascinating how “fat” has become a derogatory term in our society these days. It is almost our second nature to spurt out the oh-so-familiar reply “No, you’re beautiful” whenever someone refers to themselves as “fat” as if that F word (how dare I even utter such a horrendous word in its entirety) were a curse so vile that you wouldn’t wish to inflict on your worst enemies.

Personally, I am not offended by the word “fat”. To be honest, I prefer it to other euphemisms like curvy or chubby since I just can’t relate to any of these so-called “socially accepted” terms.

[...] as if that F word were a curse so vile that you wouldn’t wish to inflict on your worst enemies

Big? I like this word as it is pretty neutral. However, I do not think it provides an accurate depiction of my body (and I’m particular with my descriptive language :)) Since I am pretty short, I guess it means that I am only horizontally big, but not vertically big?! Does that even make sense?

Curvy? I have always found this word perplexing as it describes a body silhouette and has absolutely nothing to do with being fat or not.

Chubby? I do not mind being called chubby. It’s just that this word is often used to describe children and y’all know how I feel about kiddies *wink wink*

I realized that it was not the word “fat” itself that hurt me, but the malignant intentions of the speakers.

Growing up as a fat girl in a conservative society wherein thinness is the norm for women, I am too familiar with the insults, the ridicule, the backhanded comments, the fashion advice on how to look slimmer, or the unsolicited tips on dieting. Incessant exposure to those hurtful remarks, especially from an impressionable age, can easily (if not inevitably) beget a visceral aversion to the word “fat”. “Fat” made me feel ugly, inadequate, unwanted, and worthless. Being fat felt like a problem that desperately needed to be fixed. It stopped feeling like just a word and started to feel like a weapon. Over time, as I grew up and reflected on those experiences, I realized that it was not the word “fat” itself that hurt me, but the malignant intentions of the speakers. It was even more excruciating and frustrating when people spewed out hurtful comments under the guise of those so-called euphemisms. “No one wants to date a chubby girl lah.” “This dress makes you look very… fluffy. Are you sure you want to wear it?” It took me years to finally be able to decouple the word “fat” from its social baggage and see it for what it truly is - an adjective used to describe body type. After all, having fat on my body is just a fact. I have back fat, my arms jiggle, and I can do a perfect imitation of Tina the talking tummy (It’s a White Chicks reference, in case you miss it).

What I am trying to say here is not that every plus-size person must identify as fat (or be comfortable with that word), but that the word “fat” should no longer be deemed a derogatory term. Fat is not a yardstick of beauty or value. It is a descriptor just as tall and short are descriptors. From now on, I’m determined to reclaim the word “fat” for myself. Call it a linguistic protest. Call it an act of rebellion. Call it a revolution against fatphobia. To me, I just simply want to describe my body without the unnecessary trauma that has plagued this three-letter word for decades. Yeah, I am fat. And what about it?