“you comment on my body, therefore we are bound” by Sofia C
‘not small’ by Stephanie Crabtree | IG @steff.arts
You do not know me, but you chose to comment on my body; therefore, we are bound.
You do not realize how long it took to be okay in this body. How long it took to internalize that I was worthy of being honoured and not a commodity that can be disposed.
When I was younger, I did not see people like me being publicly loved. The fat characters did not have main character experiences; instead, they were the nice friend, the funny friend, the villain, or the ones who took the emotional labour of the straight-sized protagonist. Were you the love interest or the funny friend when you saw yourself on screen? Were you the one all the boys wanted, or were you the butt of the joke?
When we feel threatened, we lash out. We defend ourselves from what may hurt us because we are all too familiar with the searing pain an invisible dagger leaves. Unfortunately, many of us remain hurt; the cuts never heal. I tell myself this, but the reasoning does not justify how you treated me. Did you not know I am in pain too?
Why is my fat body being seamlessly ignored but also the first to be sacrificed? I ask for acknowledgment of my existence and that I, too, deserve love and affection, but you want to ensure that it is solely under your conditions. To you, a fat body can only be acknowledged with negativity. The words you spew add distance to fat liberation. Your comment on the rolls of my thighs may have seemed like a fleeting moment in the day, but it weighs itself on my shoulders. Reminding my inner child that the bullies never grew up. Reminding me that my existence remains one to be critiqued.
You fixate on my dips, curves, and the untameable softness of my thighs. You question why I show my body at all. I exist in this fat body. No one has allowed me to forget. I have perfectly curated my personality to please those around me. Sometimes I wonder what is really me and what is there for safety. I was only walking down the street; why am I undeserving of a peaceful existence? You made sure to disrupt my sense of security.
I woke up today and stared at myself in the mirror. I am in love with her, but I also feel disgust. My brother would always ask why I refer to myself with the word “disgusting.” He says I am “beautiful, intelligent, ambitious.” Unfortunately, those were not the earliest words I remember anyone referring to me as. My breathing quickens and the walls seem to fall into themselves. The self-hatred begins to take over my mind again; I feel its heaviness. It’s a heavy winter coat in the middle of July. I feel tense, hot and scared. I run into the shower and sit. I concentrate on my crossed arms as the cold water slowly brings my racing thoughts to a gentle flow. The water holds the thoughts at bay, uncovering reality.
With the sound of the flowing water, I remind myself that I am loved. I am worthy of space in this world. Using a body scrub to massage every inch of my body, I slowly run my hands along my skin. I am mimicking a ritual. Scrub, massage, and then slowly wash away. In this moment, it is only my body and I. Tending to myself, I take extra care of my thighs. The thighs you directed your insecurities at. From my inner thighs to my backside, I took extra care to wash away the hate we both gave them. This skin has had lover’s hands and lips graze against it. Kissing and biting, reminding me how delicate I genuinely am. A word that society would not describe my body as delicate. I can feel their wonder in how they grasp my waist, hips, and thighs, lightly then hard. Peppering the fat that settles on my body with their lips. As if they were making offerings.
This fat body did that.
Sofia (She/Her) is a Los Angeles based content creator, model, and blogger. With a vision for community empowerment, she launched her passion project ‘Cloudythighs’ into the digital world, unsure what it would become. Through the interplay of storytelling in social media, she brings awareness to the deeply lived realities of body insecurity, pain, and trauma by exploring the nuances of digital media and the written word in her work. | IG @cloudythighs
