I’m committed to being in the body I have, taking care of it through exercise and healthy food, but never disassociating from or denying my stomach or my thighs or the rolls of fat on my back.
I no longer believe those things should be hidden from view. I don’t believe in flattering, in hiding or masking or Spanxing. I believe in belly outlines and flabby arms all a flutter, in jiggling double chins and stretch marks and cellulite and rolls aplenty. These are our true bodies, the ones that everyone keeps shrouded in cotton invisibility cloaks, except for the occasional decolletage or bared calf.
But what are we hiding from and for whom? And if we showed those things, would anything change? Did no one know I was fat when I wore long sleeved caftans and wide-leg pants? To this still newbie and sometimes naked model, fat activism and acceptance is not one movement or campaign, but is found in each exposed dimple and unfettered belly.
And so yes, I pose in my underwear, and in my less than underwear, and in a fluffy skirt and netted hat. But each person in a miniskirt (fat or thin or inbetweenie) is a triumph, each exaggerated belly and bold print over bolder ass a statement, and we, of all shapes and sizes, should not be afraid to speak out.