The fat girl trope has to die and remain dead. It’s overused, abused, and highly flawed.
You didn’t read the title incorrectly. Fat girls actually have lives. It’s true and we do. We’re living and breathing organisms that are productive, set out to do shit and get shit done. We don’t spend 10 hours a day looking into a well made IKEA mirror, trying to forcibly cut off the fat on our stomachs with a rusted silver knife. We have fucking lives.
As a fat girl, I am beyond sick and tired of watching skewed fat girl portrayals on my semi- functional television screen. Seeing someone with my body type hide, sneak, and eat Little Debbie snacks, cry over their body in a mirror, then flips through a Victoria’s Secret magazine and proceeds to tell themselves repeatedly “I wish I looked like this” is not an accurate representation of how I live my life.
I’ll jump in here really quick and say, I have absolutely nothing against my home girl Little Debbie. I mean shit, she’s the reason why I’m the size I am today! But this blog post isn’t to showcase my utmost love for Debra. Let’s get back on track, shall we?
The media continues to reinforce the idea that the sole thing everyone should know about fat people, is that we’re fat and struggle with our weight. That all we have are rolls, flab’s, huge stomachs, and cellulite on our thick thighs and were so insecure to the point where we self sobotage potential romantic relationships. Which simply isn’t true, we are more than that. Way more than that. And deserve way more than that.
Believe it or not, we aren’t sub-human. We’re actual human beings, with organs and a beating heart. We aren’t even allowed to simply call ourselves “girls”. We must put the adjective “fat” directly in front of it. We’re not just human beings, were fucking fat human beings.
It’s no secret that I loathe watching movies when the protagonist is fat, because I know it’ll just be another “I’m insecure, blah blah blah and I hate my body, blah blah blah, hot guy falls in love with me despite my size bleh bleh bleh”. I’ve always found it difficult to understand why filmmakers believe this is what, we, the people want to see. What messages are they truly trying to convey to their audience?
These movies should all be a crime, a fucking federal offense, and no I’m not being facetious. Okay maybe I am, just a teeny tiny little bit. I’ve always considered movies like this to be intentional mockeries of fat people, and it makes non fat viewers develop the misconception that all fat people are worthless, insecure, and not deserving of anything good. In narrower terms, all fat people should be treated like shit because of the extra blubber we so effortlessly carry.
These depictions always succeed at one thing, which is failing to make me feel seen or recognized. It’s not cathartic. It’s not inspiring. It’s simply not revolutionary.
They feed off of popular fat people stereotypes which infuriates me to no end. They’re based entirely on what others in the world think fat people are like/ experience. Truthfully, there isn’t any true fat girl experience, because we are in fact, just human beings, that get fucked in the ass by life just like everyone else.
I’m currently sitting down on my squeaky wooden floors painting my toes with some cheap 99 cent store burgundy nail polish. See? Can you see that I’m actually doing something and being productive? All while being fat!
And later I’ll treat myself to a Little Debbie turtle brownie, and devour it out in the open without hiding and sneak eating it. Because I’m not a fucking fat human being, I’m just a human being and I’m allowed to do shit that humans do.