I’m in the midst of working on a freelance article that fills me both with righteous fervor and abject anxiety. The basic gist of the article is a fashion road test of plus-sized swimwear to find some items that are actually cute. This is a topic that I, as a fat person who LOVES to swim, feel very strongly about. I’m tired of apologetic black tank suits. I’m tired of swimsuits (and brands) that treat my 200+ pound body as a problem in need of solving. I’m tired of feeling like the doing the exercise and sport that I love is made harder because I can’t find functional swim suits.
So, yes, I’m on board with doing a story that points out that there are some actually great swim suits out there right now
This one, from Lane Bryant, has the most amazing bra support ever. I love it .
But the story is also going to feature pictures of me in various swimsuits. And here is where the conflict comes in. On the one hand, I’m an actual fat person and I think there is value in letting other plus-sized women see what swimsuits look like on non-model bodies. I also told one of my best friends that my new year’s resolution this year was to do one thing every day that would annoy Donald Trump, and I feel confident that putting myself out there and not apologizing for the fact that I have big boobs and thighs that touch and a belly that is soft and stretched marked would 100% annoy our misogynist in chief.
But on the other hand, I also know with 100% certainty that I will get some shit about this article. The shit might take the form of comments that say my body is gross or people who tell me that I’m brave — which is meant to be nice, of course, but also feels icky and condescending. I’m not brave. I’m just existing.
But the thing I’m most pre-annoyed about is that there is will almost certainly be someone who calls me lazy.
Fat and lazy.
See, the thing is that I’m writing this at 11:15pm, because I just got home from work. I was at work from 8am to 10:15pm. I average about 55 to 60 hours a week at work. When I’m home, I’m usually working after the kids go to bed too. I have a to-do list that is a mile long and I’m always trying to cross off one more thing before I go to bed. I’m fortunate that I like my job and I’m fairly compensated for it, but I work my ass off.
Just, you know, not literally.
I work a lot but I don’t work out a lot. I work a lot and so
sometimes often I grab what is quick and easy for lunch. Today I had McDonalds, which is of course what many people think a fat girl like me eats every damn day. Yesterday I had a salad, but don’t let that distract from the fact that I ate fast food and I’ll do it again. Bad fattie.
It makes me angry when I think about the fact that there are people who look at me and think lazy. Can’t you hear the sneer?
Fat and lazy.
Maybe I’d exercise more if I worked less. Maybe if I wasn’t so busy hustling to be a bad ass boss and mom and friend, I’d have a better ass. Maybe there’s a way that I get skinnier and then people see me as the hard worker I already am. But maybe there’s not.
Being fat is a weird experience sometimes. Some days I hate my body. Some times I feel militant and strong. I feel invisible some times and horribly exposed others. But damn it, I’m not lazy.