On Body Positivity: Why I Use the Word Fat (and why you can, too)

Pause for a beat. A slight recoil. Shoulders tense up. These are typical reactions when I use the word “fat” in conversation.

I am a health at every size aligned dietitian. I practice from a weight inclusive lens, and I treat individuals across the weight spectrum. Why, then, do I use the word fat in such a cavalier way?

We have negatively charged the word fat for as long as I can remember, as long as my mom, and your moms, and our grandmothers can remember. My first memory of “fat” was at age six, when I got on a scale at a beach house we were renting and worried if the number was high enough to label me as “fat.” It starts early, it runs thick, and it is nearly impossible to avoid.

Picture this: you are out to dinner with friends. You all take a picture, and the group gathers to evaluate the photo. Inevitably, someone interjects, “Delete that! I look fat, we need to take it again.” Another friend jumps to her rescue, “oh my god, you do not look fat!”

Estimates vary, but the data show that somewhere between 69%-91% of women experience body dissatisfaction related to weight, regardless of their position on the weight spectrum (McLaren & Kuh, 2004; Runfola et al., 2013). If the hypothetical situation in question involved a group of six women, then we can deduce conservatively that at least four of these six women face some degree of body dissatisfaction. These four women hear their friend agonizing over the fact that a photo makes her look fat, and they internalize the message that fat is unacceptable. Further, we assure one another that we are not fat; it’s just a bad angle, or an unflattering dress, or bad lighting, or a burrito baby. Inadvertently, this conversation perpetuates the message that should you ever be labeled as fat, your body will need to be fixed urgently. It perpetuates the paternalistic idea that if you are fat, you should be ashamed. This pattern repeats itself, ad infinitum, throughout the lifespan. 

I had a well-meaning professor last semester explain to our class of aspiring mental health counselors why she has banned the word fat from her home, why she interjects every time her niece calls herself fat, and how she swiftly replaces the term with the euphemism, “The F-Word.” While there was no doubt in my mind that her intentions were pure, what her niece was hearing time after time was, fat is something bad, fat is unspeakable, and fat is something to be avoided. Even the modern body positivity movement misses the mark time and time again: “your body is beautiful.” What if it’s not? Aren’t we still worthy?

The truth of the matter is, some people are fat. Many of these people likely will remain fat, despite the lifestyle patterns they adopt (Bacon & Aphramor, 2011). We know the allostatic load imposed by weight stigma and weight discrimination yield worse outcomes than the weight itself (Vadiveloo & Mattei, 2017). We know that the more weight shame an individual feels, the less likely they are to maintain the health-promoting behaviors that we all love to recommend (Mauldin et al., 2022). So, why is it that we feel such a visceral reaction when the word fat is used as a descriptor?

I use the word fat in a non-derogatory way, just like I might describe someone as tall, or muscular, or brunette. I do not employ the word fat as an insult, and when I hear someone call themselves fat, I no longer instinctively reassure them that they aren’t. The more we use this word neutrally, the more fat individuals feel that their bodies are just bodies, without a moral judgment attached. Body positivity is a bit of a misnomer. It implies we must feel positively towards our bodies all the time. Body neutrality, however, removes the element of self-objectification. As defined by NEDA, body neutrality “is a shift in perspective, from body hatred, disgust, and dislike, to body appreciation and respect. It is honouring the body as it is and taking a few steps down the body image continuum towards a more neutral zone.”

Without fail, every time I explain this, someone chimes in with a, “but what about their health?!” I have a lot of thoughts on this comment, but I will summarize them as concisely as I can. First and foremost, I can’t imagine a world where telling a friend that their body is wrong would be the inspiration they needed to adopt health-promoting behaviors. Second of all, you simply cannot independently predict someone’s health status by appraising their body weight (Tomiyama et al., 2016, Bacon & Aphramor, 2011). This myth has been debunked by large scale studies that have found that weight is a highly unreliable independent predictor of health (Tomiyama et al., 2016). Said differently, a fat individual may or may not be unhealthy, just as a straight-sized individual may or may not be unhealthy. Third, and perhaps most importantly, whether or not your friend is healthy isn’t really your business. You’re not their doctor, nor are you their caretaker, and it’s not your responsibility to assure their health status. If you’re wondering how to talk to someone about their body size, I think it’s helpful to follow a general rule of thumb: don’t.

So, what can you do? You can start by omitting pejorative fat talk in your circles. No complimenting weight loss, or noticing someone “looking skinny.” No more fat shaming yourself, or anyone else for that matter. You can replace, “do I look fat in this picture, I don’t want to post it if I do” with neutral statements like, “do you like this picture? I want a second opinion.” Call your friends out when they do the same. My personal favorite interjection when the group gets saturated with fat talk is to inform the group that I find the subject matter boring. Hearing about someone’s body size is simply not interesting to me, and I’ve learned that many others share this sentiment.

Keep in mind that complimenting someone’s weight loss can inadvertently be complimenting their eating disorder, their depressive episode, their high stress period at work, or a number of other factors that we don’t want to positively reinforce. And if it feels comfortable to you, you have the permission to use word fat in a neutral way. It can be helpful to disclaim to others that you use the term neutrally; they might be new to the idea. Reclaiming the word fat can be a powerful step in the direction of body acceptance, and we deserve to live in a world where people are taking these steps.

References

Bacon, L., & Aphramor, L. (2011). Weight Science: Evaluating the Evidence for a Paradigm Shift. Nutrition Journal, 10(1), 9. https://doi.org/10.1186/1475-2891-10-9

Mauldin, K., May, M., & Clifford, D. (2022). The consequences of a weight-centric approach to healthcare: A case for a paradigm shift in how clinicians address body weight. Nutrition in Clinical Practice: Official Publication of the American Society for Parenteral and Enteral Nutrition. https://doi.org/10.1002/ncp.10885

McLaren, L., & Kuh, D. (2004). Body Dissatisfaction in Midlife Women. Journal of Women & Aging, 16(1–2), 35–54. https://doi.org/10.1300/J074v16n01_04

Runfola, C. D., Von Holle, A., Trace, S. E., Brownley, K. A., Hofmeier, S. M., Gagne, D. A., & Bulik, C. M. (2013). Body Dissatisfaction in Women Across the Lifespan: Results of the UNC-SELF and Gender and Body Image (GABI) Studies. European Eating Disorders Review, 21(1), 52–59. https://doi.org/10.1002/erv.2201

Tomiyama, A. J., Hunger, J. M., Nguyen-Cuu, J., & Wells, C. (2016). Misclassification of cardiometabolic health when using body mass index categories in NHANES 2005-2012. International Journal of Obesity (2005), 40(5), 883–886. https://doi.org/10.1038/ijo.2016.17

Vadiveloo, M., & Mattei, J. (2017). Perceived Weight Discrimination and 10-Year Risk of Allostatic Load Among US Adults. Annals of Behavioral Medicine : A Publication of the Society of Behavioral Medicine,51(1), 94–104. https://doi.org/10.1007/s12160-016-9831-7