The things we don't say

There are so many things we don't say.

And so many things you do.

You say all bodies are beautiful,

but your worst fear is to have a body like mine.

You say people can be healthy at any size,

but quickly add,

"I just feel best when I'm smaller".

You say I walk too slow,

but have you tried slowing down?

You say it's hard for you to slow your pace,

but it's harder for me to speed mine up.

Shouldn't we always go as slow as the slowest person in the group?

but that only works if you notice who's behind.

You ask why I never dress up,

but we go to shops that don't stock my size.

After a meal, you laugh and say you feel so full, so fat,

that your clothes are too tight,

and I wonder if you realise

you're talking about my body.

You say I should move more,

but the movement spaces you love don't welcome me in.

You say I should take care of my health,

but my health is just fine.

You (and my doctor) just can't see past my weight.

You suggest activities:

hiking, yoga, kayaking, spinning,

but you never stop to think whether they're size-friendly,

whether the seatbelt will fit,

whether the bike has a weight limit,

whether the harness can be adjusted,

whether the yoga studio has mats wide enough for all bodies,

for my body.

You don't check

because you've never had to.

You move through a world that was built for you,

and I move through one that wasn't.

There are many things we do say

and many we don't

and even more that we should say.

Because The Fat Experience is not one story.

It's not one struggle, one voice, one way of being.

Each person's experience of fatness is stitched from different threads:

culture, class, race, gender, history,

but there are seams that bind us together, too.

The knowing glances between strangers on a cramped plane.

The quiet calculations when entering a restaurant:

will I fit?

The silent gratitude when a chair doesn't creak.

The joy of moving your body your way 

when the world told you not to.

You might empathise,

(and I appreciate that)

but you can't relate.

And that's the point.

Because to understand The Fat Experience,

you must be willing to slow down.

To sit with the discomfort.

To see the world

for a moment

from our side of the table.

A table that fits us,

all of us.

This is not all my experiences,

but it could all be my experiences,

experiences shared by millions and billions of Fat people,

experiences that aren't shared by you,

but experiences that you should know about.

So here I am,

saying the things we don't say.

That's all for now—thank you for being here and for making a commitment to make movement spaces more inclusive for all bodies!

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