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Reclaiming the F Word

I’d like to channel Eve Ensler for a moment, but instead of having you chant a famously vulgar (to many people, anyway) term that rhymes with blunt, I’d like to have you chant the word, “Fat.”

Whisper it. Feel the “F” on your tongue as it almost hisses out, like soft, round snake. Fat. Faaaat. Spit out the “T” on the end of it, declaring the word with all of your intent.

It’s not dirty, is it? And not nearly as offensive as the tabloids and talk shows would have us believe. Fat cells are even a little bit…cute. There’s nothing wrong with being fat, as long as you are healthy—and mark these words, you can definitely be both. Is your blood pressure good? Can you climb a set of stairs? Do you get regular exercise? You’re probably A-OK no matter how much your mother says you’d be prettier with less poundage.

Fat can be hot. Look at Laruen on Glee. Adele. Monique. Camryn Manheim. Queen Latifah. These women are absolutely gorgeous and they’re the f-word, fat. It’s okay to be fat, just as it’s okay to be tall, to be brown-eyed, to have freckles. Fatness has been determined to be genetic by many studies, just as these factors are.

Look, don’t take it from me. Look up “Health at Every Size” and start researching—and stop hating your body.