There’s one thing that a Christian woman knows in American Evangelicalism—if she finds herself fat, she will truly carry extra weight. The extra weight comes in the form of shame, blame, and ostracization.

Shame is comprised of the internalized feelings of inadequacy and embarrassment that are women at large (pun intended)—but especially in the Evangelical church—are subject to because of living in a larger body. Internalized feelings of disgust and embarrassment are honestly what a lot of churches thrive on. It’s built into the Evangelical model of the Gospel—you are so screwed up that you need to change everything about you, especially your body.

Blame is made up of the accusations of not being enough while simultaneously being too much, whether that be for romantic love or leadership in the church. It’s absurd to have to type this, but a lot of Christians believe that a fat body is a sign of sin in one’s life. Not because of natural biodiversity, but by actually being wrong due to eating “too much” and not exercising enough. This blame shows up when women (and at times, men) are passed over for leadership positions because of their body size and shape. This blame also shows up when a woman is unable to find romantic love or if her marriage frays.

Ostracization is a tool of the Evangelical church, especially when it comes to unruly bodies, including any deviation from ‘traditional’ teachings. When your pastor frequently makes fat jokes from the pulpit, you are being actively othered. This truly creates a group of second-class citizens, where fat people are not afforded the same rights and privileges as thinner people.

All of these things—shame, blame, and ostracization—are communicated not just subtly or through whispers; no, they are very blatantly articulated and perpetuated within communities of faith.

What can we do as communities of faith to offer justice and mercy to fat people in our anti-fat world?

Consider the four levels of fat liberation (which I articulate more fully in More of You: The Fat Girl’s Field Guide to the Modern World if you’re interested in reading further).

The Four Levels of Fat Liberation

1. Personal: Challenging internalized anti-fatness, aka your inner critic.

2. Interpersonal: Challenging anti-fatness from one person to another, whether it be in the form of a fat joke or self-deprecation that spreads to others like wildfire.

3. Community-based: Challenging the ways that thinner people are celebrated and included. For example: platform body diversity. Cancel that weight-loss Bible study and read J. Nicole Morgan’s Fat and Faithful: Learning to Love Our Bodies, Our Neighbors, and Ourselves or my Lovely: How I Learned to Embrace the Body God Gave Me instead.

4. Structural: Challenging the systems that perpetuate the status quo. Make sure there are baptism and choir robes and church camp t-shirts for every body in your congregation.

Using these strategies in our own lives and the lives of our loved ones and our beloved communities, we can cut out the blame, shame, and ostracization that too often thrive in our churches.

This is a call to all of us Christians, whether we find ourselves in large or small or medium bodies. Christians are called to live in the upside-down kingdom of God, and fat people are worth so much particularly because they are so oppressed in church and society.

To answer my question in the subtitle—NO, my body does not disqualify me from faith or leadership. In fact, I think my body specially qualifies me for faith and leadership because of something I call fat privilege, which I’ll dive into soon.

Peace and love,

Amanda

I recently had the pleasure of speaking with as she is writing her next book on wellness culture and Christianity, which I am stoked to read when it’s finished. As we spoke about fat liberation and body size within a faith and cultural context, two M-words rose to the top of our conversation: morality and medicalization.

The Moralization of Fatness

In my journey over the past ten plus years as a fat activist and person of faith, I have encountered the morality of body size in a significant way. So many Christians hold a deep-seated belief that thinness is close to godliness. The Apostle Paul has several verses that have been co-opted by purveyors of the thin-is-godly worldview (i.e. the body is a temple interpreted as an imperative for physical health, among others). I have written extensively about this in my first book Lovely: How I Learned to Embrace the Body God Gave Me and my second book More of You: The Fat Girl’s Field Guide to the Modern World.

But even outside of a Christian worldview, body size is moralized. Note how good guys are trim and fit while the big baddie is just that—big. Thin is good and fat is bad. It’s practically inescapable, hitting us in our tropes and even in our health food marketing. (Food marketed as “good” when it has less fat…)

Once we realize that body size is morally neutral, we can begin the journey toward fat liberation. Until then, we are stuck in the fat-is-bad and therefore fat-people-are-bad cycle, which is harmful to all of us.

[If you’re a person of faith and are annoyed with The Daniel Fast and other Christian diet books, I have a podcast rec for you—my episode of Fat & Faithful with Dr. Aubrey Buster, on why the Daniel fast is a stupid reason to diet…]

So, once we detangle ourselves from the morality of body size, we have to fight the medicalization of body size.

The Medicalization of Fatness

Another M- phenomenon is the medicalization of fatness.

Fatness has always existed in the human species. It’s not new, and it’s not the result of GMOs or ultra-processed foods.

I know that we were sold a paleo diet on the assumption that paleo-era humans (whatever that means!) were all trim and fit because they didn’t eat cultivated grains. But take a look at the Venus of Willendorf, stylized here in my favorite color, purple.

Also, this was the logo for my podcast of old, Fat & Faithful. (You can still listen to all the episodes here!)

Anyway, body size has only recently been medicalized. And I’m not talking about relative to human existence…I’m talking about a few of handfuls of years…

Like 13 years ago.

In 2013, the American Medical Association voted to classify ‘obesity’* as a disease. However… “The AMA decision is controversial, since the AMA’s own Council on Science and Public Health in 2012 said that there was not sufficient data to support calling obesity a disease” (this article).

Before 2013, ‘obesity’ was not considered an illness. But it is now. And now we have the proliferation of medications targeted to this “disease.” By changing the classification of ‘obesity’ to a disease rather than just a way that human bodies can exist in the world, the medical establishment solidified (already extant) medical prejudice against bodies like mine. I firmly believe that the moralizing of fatness led to its medicalization, and that is just a really really irresponsible way to do medicine. Shame on you, AMA.

In 2025, I wrote about my journey with semaglutide in my posts Ozempic and Me. For several years now, I have been on Ozempic for type 2 diabetes, and even though it was never my goal, I have lost some weight while on the drug. And even though my blood sugars are completely under control at a low dose, I have the medical option to up my dose in order to lose weight, and my insurance would cover it.

Let me reiterate—my actual disease is managed through medicine, but they want to medically manage my body size. Because it’s bad.

Why does it matter if fatness is medicalized?

1. It makes it seem like health is thinness and thinness is health.

2. It gives people with economic advantages the ability to seek thinness, while villainizing those in poverty who find themselves in large bodies.

3. It pathologizes something largely genetically determined in order to make money for pharmaceutical companies.

If we can accept that the variety of trees in our world are different shapes and sizes, why can’t we accept the same diversity in body size? A great resource on this idea is this video from the Association for Size Diversity and Health (ASDAH): Poodle Science. We don’t treat every dog like a poodle—so why should we treat every human like a size 00 model medically?

So, maybe this is the first time you’ve considered the morality and medicalization of body size—or fatness, specifically.

What can you do?

First, you can reject the morality of body size. All bodies are good bodies. And a body is good because it fulfills its purpose, which is relationship—not thinness or health.

Second, you can reject the medicalization mentality about body size. Body size diversity is as natural as other kinds of biodiversity.

These begin with your mind, heart, and body. But these convictions can carry out in your social media posting and pushing back against your physician if they attempt to medicalize your body or shame you into weight loss.

I’m here with you on the journey.

~Amanda

Tuesday was a state testing day at school, so I had ample time to deep dive on any topic I wanted while my students were hard at work and I was monitoring them. We have to check our phones in at the school office at the beginning of the day, and while I don’t like being separated from my phone for any length of time, really, I try to let my brain soak up time just to think.

And friendship was on my mind, specifically my friendships with other fat people.

There’s just so much power in having a friendly encounter with another person who has shared lived experience, particularly that of going through an anti-fat world in a fat body.

This world is sharp, while I am soft.

The softness in me calls out to the softness in you, friend.

It’s the power of representation, is it not? Knowing that I am not alone in my experience of the world.

Fat joy

There is something about living in fat joy and hearing it echoed by another human being. It’s a special resonance when I find a fellow fatty who is safe. And by safe, I mean a fellow fat person who has a fat liberatory mindset. Not all fat people are safe, you know? I’m talking about someone who has done the work—or at least is on the journey—of unlearning deeply ingrained anti-fatness. It’s definitely a process to shed the burden of anti-fatness, and it is especially hard when it is so internalized within fat people ourselves. But when I find a safe fat person, I can share something deeply with them—the joy of being fat!

Fat physicality

Another amazing thing about friendships with safe fat people is the very physicality of our gatherings. I’m not the only one who has thought of the sturdiness of the chairs, the width of the armrests, the distances to and the accessibility of the bathrooms.

There is something magical about taking up space TOGETHER.

In a world that says body size is merely mind over matter, I suggest that fat friendships call out the truth to mind your matter, your physicality.

What do you love about your fat friendships, fellow fat people?

Peace,

Amanda

When I title my posts, I typically start with “Fat” and add a noun. So today, my husband was reading over my shoulder and asked, “Fat stew??”

Allow me to explain.

Stew is, like, one of the best dishes (bowls?) out there. Every culture has some sort of stew with protein and vegetables and broth and deliciousness, and the longer something gets to stew in the pot, the better the flavors meld together.

I want to live in a fat stew.

I’ve written about my obsession with romance novels, especially when the main character is fat or plus-sized. But I keep going back to these novels to read how fatness positively portrayed over and over again. Simmering on the stove, left on low for hours and hours.

That’s the stewing that I want, that I need, that I can’t let go of. I want to sit and simmer in created worlds where fatness is valued, prized, celebrated, accepted, and cherished. I find myself re-reading Olivia Dade, Leonor Soliz, and others because the culture around me—the default soup, if you will—is all about getting skinnier and skinnier.

Here’s the thing: if I am not choosing to stew in fat-positive and body liberatory spaces—in the books I read, the people I respect, the thoughts I think—I will be simmering in skinnier soup. Doing that day in and day out will leave me starving for truth, goodness, and beauty. But by immersing myself in the world of fat liberation, I am choosing to feed myself with the thoughts, words, and deeds that I yearn for society to reflect.

And I really want a more just, more inclusive world. So for now, while I think and create and live my fat and fabulous life, I’m going to stew in the fat. Join me?

You’ve probably encountered someone who uses “fat” as though it is a feeling…or you’ve used it yourself.

Ugh, I feel so fat today!

Newsflash: Fat is not a feeling.

Fatness is an accessibility issue.

A person who is actually fat has trouble finding adequate seating, due to armrests or weight limits on chairs. This can make a venture outside of one’s own home an incredibly difficult feat. Think about it—seating is a major feature of any activity, since we humans rely on sitting no matter what size body we are in—restaurants, school, work, church, coffee shops, airplanes, cars….the list goes on and on.

A person who is actually fat has difficulty shopping for clothing in a regular store. So many retail stores that don’t specialize in fat shopping only offer through a size 14, which is ridiculous. (Insert eye roll emoji.) It’s particularly ridiculous because the average size of an American woman is a sixteen. A sixteen! It makes financial sense to supply clothing to average women, right? But the hold that diet culture hegemony has on the fashion industry is incredibly tight.

A person who is actually fat has a problem with getting adequate medical care. Yes, no matter your size, the doctor has probably encouraged you to watch your weight. But have you ever been accused of lying about what you eat because you live in a big body? Have you ever been told that any pain you’re experiencing is your fault? Has the doctor been disgusted by your body to the point of touching you less or not touching you at all during a medical visit? These are genuine barriers to care access for actually fat people.

Why it matters that fatness is not framed as a feeling:

• It confuses your brain on what body marginalization looks like.

  • When you associate fat with a feeling, you can feel more marginalized than you actually are. I’m not saying that size discrimination doesn’t exist on a spectrum, but I know that I overlooked my size privilege when I was a size 14 because I felt so fat. My self-centered perception of fatness limited my understanding of the marginalization of mid-fats and super-fats. To be honest, my own body shame and negativity completely absorbed me and I didn’t even think of people bigger than me. Recognizing true marginalization in any area of life is vital to begin on the path of solidarity.

• It associates fat with badness.

  • Usually what you’re intended to communicate when you say, “I feel fat,” is a negative feeling. If you’re feeling bloated or uncomfortable in your skin, I challenge you to use better words. Otherwise, you’re equating fat with bad feelings, and that’s not fair to fatness. Fatness is a lovely thing, a way for a body to exist in this world. Yes, fatness is marginalized, but there is so much beauty, softness, and tenderness when you experience the world in a fat body.

Fat is life! Literally every cell in your body functions because of the fat it contains. That deserves more than branding as a bad feeling.

Hope that elucidates some things for all of us.

Much love and peace,

Amanda

After last week’s post about my fat haircut, I’ve been sifting through my internal monologue and parsing out the anti-fatness I’ve been marinating in. Last week, I wrote some thoughts that percolated into my mind while I was staring at the full-body mirror.

“Wow, I didn’t realize I brought so much of me into this space. I wonder what others are thinking of me. I bet they’re embarrassed of my body.”

The constant feed of negativity is sometimes quiet, sometimes loud. Rooting out the negativity means identifying it and addressing it…and identifying it can be exhausting.

Sometimes I wish that I had subtitles for my brain’s thoughts. Reading what’s going on inside my noggin is almost a full-time job, you feel me? If I had subtitles, maybe I could hit CTRL + F and find the key words that haunt my psyche about my fatness.

KEY WORDS
too much
unworthy
overlooked
underestimated
ugly
insecure
unhealthy

Or maybe I should use CTRL + H to find and replace all those key words with these:

enough
worthy
seen
valued
beautiful
secure
thriving

Now I know that this post could come across as surprising, given that I’m supposed to be super fat-positive, while I admit to struggling with body negativity frequently (every day). Maybe you’re suspicious of my schtick—that all bodies are good bodies—if I can’t even convince my own brain of this truth. To be honest, I’m suspicious of myself… It’s been a decade of this journey. Shouldn’t I be more evolved?

However, when I think about how long I was steeped in diet culture without questioning it (30+ years), when I think about how I can’t escape from all the indoctrination about bodies and their value in our society…I realize that this deprogramming will likely take the rest of my life.

Have you heard the parable of the screw? A screw feels like it goes in circles, but it’s actually changing in altitude as you follow it. A screw uses an inclined plane to drill deeper into its base. So even though it feels like I feel like I’m going around and around in circles, I’m actually getting deeper to the heart of the issue: my deep-seated belief that fat is bad.

It’s so frustrating to be “dealing with the same thing” over and over again, but I’m really digging out the deep hole of false beliefs over a lifetime of lies and indoctrination of diet culture.

Are you in a similar position? Do you have anti-fat messaging repeating over and over again in your head? Are you still in the thick of deprogramming from diet culture?

What have you found helpful on your deprogramming, fat liberatory journey?

Join me as I CTRL + H to find and replace all the diet culture lies in my fat subtitles.

Peace and joy,

Amanda

I got a haircut today. It was an overall wonderful experience! My hairdresser is a friend, and we chatted in Spanish about all that has been going on in life. (We both speak English, but my daughters—who don’t speak Spanish—were there, so I could speak more freely about life in Spanish.) I felt a tangible weight lift off my chest as I shared about my trials and joys.

Sandra Bullock was my inspiration for this cut.

I really love how it turned out. «insert heart eyes emoji» Benito did, too, lol.

What I didn’t love was the full-length mirror I had to stare at while Dulce cut my hair.

Now, I’ve been on the body positivity/fat acceptance/fat liberation/body peace train for a decade. I’ve done a lot of interior work to accept my body as she is. I affirm that it’s good to be fat. Heck, I’ve written two books about my journey!

And yet, when I’m honest, sometimes I forget that I’m as fat as I am. I wore a pair of shorts to my appointment today, which happens to accentuate my lower belly. As I sat in the salon chair, my belly was front and center, pressed and smushed into the seat. I was taken aback. In my head, I guess, I am smaller.

And, being honest, I was disappointed for a bit. The critical voice that was instilled in me as a child flared to life and reiterated its ugly sounds of self-hatred and disappointment.

Wow, I didn’t realize I brought so much of me into this space. I wonder what others are thinking of me. I bet they’re embarassed of my body.

All of those thoughts swirled in my head, all while I was having a delightful conversation with my hairdresser. I was simultaneously receiving love from her while fielding criticism.

Has that happened to you?

I had to remind myself that the purpose of my body is relationship, not thinness.

I had to remind myself that I bring love and life to every room I enter.

I had to remind myself that I am not too much.

Yes, it’s exhausting to live in a fat body in a world that hates fatness. The mirror can reveal so much grief and sadness, but it doesn’t tell the whole story.

You are worthy. You are enough. No matter how fat you are.

Sending love and joy to you (from me and Benito!),

Amanda

Trigger warning: This post includes discussion of fasting for religious purposes, which I believe are almost always connected to eating disorder behavior. I am discussing it in a negative light and do not condone or endorse any kind of fasting.

One of my boyfriends in college, we’ll call him Roger, was obsessed with fasting for religious and health reasons. This was long before intermittent fasting was a thing, and we were both involved in a pretty zealous church (that some might call a cult?). As a church congregation, we regularly fasted for 3 days, and sometimes people undertook 40-day fasts. I know (insert eye roll emoji)…we were sincere in faith but sincerely screwed up in how we thought about bodies.

Anywhoo, Roger had this analogy he liked to use about fasting and why it was helpful: Imagine your soul is a lake, placid and calm. When you fast, he said, you drained the lake. Once the lake (aka your energy) was drained, you could see what was underneath the surface and begin to deal with it. Thought of in this way, fasting for him was a tool for the soul’s refinement, leading the one fasting to introspection and a greater ability to say ‘no’ to sinful desires.

For so long, I held on to this analogy, because when I fasted, I did feel something I identified as spiritual refreshment. It was this hazy good feeling, like I was really getting to the bottom of the sh*t inside me, giving me the ability to deal with my shortcomings and flaws.

I only recently realized that it wasn’t the fasting that gave me that sense of spiritual refreshment—it was the defamiliarization that fasting led me to, making me feel good.

Let me explain. Defamiliarization is a poetic term used to describe the process of consciously stepping back from something very familiar, so that one can see it with fresh eyes. [A brief internet search is telling me that the term was coined by Russian literary theorist and critic Viktor Schlovsky in the early 20th century, but I was introduced to this concept by my English teacher husband.]

This is something poets do with ease—breaking down a common activity or experience into its precious and beautiful—or bizarre and disgusting—pieces. Defamiliarization allows us to observe our lives from some distance and either critique or enjoy them. Defamiliarization can help us enjoy something in our lives, but it can also emphasize the strangeness of things in life.

I think that refraining from eating—whether in dieting or religious fasting, or any form of food restriction—can have a defamiliarizing effect, bringing a sense of peace or anxiety, depending on how severe the malnutrition is from food restriction.

When I used to fast, the first few days would be euphoric—not only was I “doing good” by religiously abstaining to better my soul, but I was also defamiliarized to food and sensitized to my feelings. After a few days, however, the anxiety from malnourishment set in and caused negative feelings and emotions, bizarre and disgusting thoughts about myself, food, and my body.

I finally gave up religious fasting and all dieting when an attempted 40-day fast led me into a mental breakdown. I realized that my moral and religious compass was tied to my body size, and I, thankfully, walked away from that religious community shortly thereafter.

My spiritual journey post-fasting has been up and down, but I still do consider myself a person of Christian faith, although in a completely different way than I used to. God is so mystically, magically big and God’s love so encompassing, and I don’t need to deprive myself of nutrition in order to be at peace with God.

I have, however, missed the euphoria of religious zeal that I used to have.

Lent is upon us, the 40 days of preparation before Good Friday and Easter. Historically, Christians have given up some sort of food as a reminder of Jesus’s 40 days in the desert before beginning his public ministry, leading eventually to his death and resurrection. For many years, however, since giving up fasting (fasting from fasting? lol), I have added something to my spiritual practices in this season.

This year, I decided to read one poem a day. Not a religious poem. Just a poem. I’ve begun Ada Limón’s Startlement, and it is a beautiful experience to be drawn into another human’s attempts at defamiliarizing the world around her.

I’m getting those euphoric feelings again, letting myself create distance between me and the things that get on my nerves about myself. Specifically, the things I resent about being fat.

This week at school, we’ve been testing, so the classroom has been very quiet. And I have been annoyed at the sound of my own breathing. I’m self-conscious, really, acknowledging that maybe if I weren’t so fat or so disabled, that my breathing would be quieter.

But stepping back from that anti-fatness and self-hatred, I can defamiliarize my ears from the sounds of my breath…in and out…in and out…in and out.

That’s proof of life, Amanda, calls the defamiliarized voice. That’s your lungs making their efforts known. You’re a survivor. Covid didn’t have the final say.

Just that realization yesterday in my classroom during that really long testing session led to this post and thoughts of what else I can defamiliarize about the fat lived experience.

Chub rub? Friction, heat, marking the miles of walking I do during a day in service to my students.

A big belly? Storer of secrets and big laughs and heavy sighs.

Stretch marks galore? A testament to the ever-expanding universe of love.

What is the voice of defamiliarization calling out to you today? Does it give you the same feeling of peace and euphoria? I’d love to hear from you in the comments, or just reply to this email.

Peace and light,

Amanda Martinez Beck

P.S. Did you know I have written a couple of books about bodies and faith?

Lovely: How I Learned to Embrace the Body God Gave Me I wrote when I was a practicing Catholic and is a theological defense of the phrase All bodies are good bodies.

More of You: The Fat Girl’s Field Guide to the Modern World I wrote after my battle with Covid, and it’s a practical manual for conversations with your family, friends, co-workers, religious leaders, and yourself about the goodness of your fat body.

I’m supposed to be writing today, but I’m having massive writer’s block. So I’m analyzing what I’m feeling…and I realize that it’s fat discontent.

I am hesitant to even write these words. Yes, I am discontent. Yes, I am fat. Therefore, I possess fat discontent. But it’s not what you might think. It’s not because I want to be thinner.

I want a more just world.

A world where I am judged by the content of my character and not the size of my body.

A world where fat people are not considered lazy or gross. (Thanks for nothing, Mike Tyson.)

A world where children are allowed to grow into their bodies without childhood dieting pushed on them by the very people who are supposed to have their best interests at heart.

Now that I’ve typed that out, I think what I actually am feeling is fat rage.

Is there another way to feel towards the world right now besides rage?

I’m angry about that Super Bowl ‘processed foods’ ad put out by our government.

I’m livid about ICE and everything that’s happening to immigrants and advocates.

I’m incandescent with rage at people who refuse to hold child rapists accountable.

Maybe this writer’s block is actually just being overwhelmed with discontent and rage. And that’s all I have for today.

-Amanda

Fat Main Characters, who needs them?? WE ALL DO.

I wrote a little about my romance reading journey in this post and I interviewed my current favorite author Leonor Soliz. But with this post, I wanted to dive into the need for plus-size (AKA FAT) main characters in romance. (I’ll use the words plus-size and fat interchangeably, because I want FAT to be a commonly used term when it comes to romance.)

Growing up, all the books I read had main characters for whom fatness was a fear, a problem, a no-no. Whether it was children’s picture books or historical fiction, a large body was always shorthand for bad. The bullies, the villains, or the ugly step-sisters were fat, not the main character. Or, in the very rare case that the protagonist was slightly larger than average, her storyline was about losing weight.

Needless to say, for a long time, the narrative has been that fatness is bad.

To be honest, I didn’t really notice that fat was a byword for badness until I was in my thirties and I found myself fatter than I ever had been. After 3 pregnancies and a lot of life, I was a mid-size fat person. In the summer of 2015, I realized just how ingrained my own anti-fatness was and that I wanted to be rid of it. That started a journey to writing and reading and listening to voices of other fat people (and some thin allies). I started to heal from the disordered thinking that had plagued me for my whole life.

Culturally, that was around the time that body positivity was beginning its heyday. The hashtags #bodypostivity and #allbodiesaregoodbodies were trending and I was into it! I grew my Instagram following with the account your_body_is_good and helped educate people about dismantling anti-fatness in their lives—from the inside and the outside. I wrote two books about the intersection of faith and fatness and hosted a podcast with my good friend Nicole. (Books here and here, and podcast still available to listen to here.)

It was clear that people were hungry (pun intended?) for a reckoning against the fat-is-bad narrative we’d been fed. I celebrated as Lindy West’s Shrill came to my tv screen, when Lizzo hit it big, and when Old Navy and Target expanded their in-store size collections. (Oh, how dated that sentence feels in the hellscape that is 2026.)

One area in which I didn’t fatify™ my preferences was in my taste in fiction. I have always loved reading, but with the addition of four kids to my family in a relatively short amount of time (I was pregnant FOREVER, from 2011-2017), I just didn’t have time to read until recently.

My romance journey started with Bridgerton, reading all the books after watching seasons 1 and 2 of the show in 2024. Of course, you know I’m a Lady Whistledown fan because Penelope Featherington represents larger girls, even though her actress Nicola Coughlan does not claim to be in the plus-size community as a size 10. (Of the Bridgerton cast, however, we know that Penelope’s character is the largest. And because size privilege is a thing, she has the least.)

My next foray into romance was because my therapist recommended Outlander to me. I started reading and I absolutely devoured the series in a couple of months. (Which is a feat, seeing that each book—9 at the moment—is more than 600 pages.) I love Claire and Jamie Fraser’s story, but I hated the anti-fatness that is present in the whole series. In spite of the anti-fatness, I spent a whole year in Scottish/Early American heaven, reading and re-reading Diana Gabaldon’s works in the expanded Outlander universe.

In summer 2025, my good friend Celeste recommended a book to me in which the female main character is disabled. Fourth Wing rocked my brain, with Rebecca Yarros’s world-building and character development. However, Violet is what Celeste calls “the portable woman” trope—where a female can just be picked up and moved around with ease because she is so small. It happens over and over again in the whole Empyrean series.

In case you can’t tell, I am not a portable woman. I am a steady, heavy reality that is hard to move. And I want to—no, I need—to have stories where steady, heavy women find love and security and pleasure. Because I know that these stories build hope, which in turn builds resilience in the face of hardship.

After reading the Empyrean series (aka all the Fourth Wing books), I could not get enough. See the chart below. In September, I kinda took off and read thousands and thousands of pages of romance. Most of it, with plus-size/fat main characters.

I finished 2025 having read over 80 romance books, and I’m already 14 books into 2026. I start my alternative teacher certification program on Tuesday, so I will not be able to read as much as I’d like. But I’ll keep reading!

All that being said, I have some romance recommendations where the main characters are plus-size/fat, AND I recognize that this list is overwhelmingly white and straight. (I’m working on changing that.) I’m linking to these books via StoryGraph, which is where those awesome reading graphics above came from. All of these earned at least 4 stars from me. These are all spicy, open-door romances, fyi.

• All of Leonor Soliz’s books: Latine author who writes sports romance and ethical billionaires (heart eyes emoji)

• Talia Hibbard’s Brown Sisters Book Set: 3 sisters find their happily ever afters

• Unreasonably Yours by Charlotte Jean: New city, new lease on life

• Rein Me In by Kayla Grosse: a cowboy romance set in Texas

• Curves for Days by Laura Moher: a summer romance with the SWEETEST mmc

• Nine Month Contract by Amy Daws: surrogate-to-lovers (i know…i know…but I’ve read it twice, I liked it so much!)

• In a Jam by Kate Canterbary: high school sweethearts rekindle their flame

• Flowers in Your Hair by Alice Daniels: the florist finds her man

Ultimately, I hope that your year includes stories where the lead is fat, because FAT PEOPLE LIVE BEAUTIFUL, STORY-WORTHY LIVES.

In 2026, I’m trying my own hand at writing a love story (with all my free time, lol). Don’t tell anyone! ;)

Love and peace to you,

Amanda

New Year’s approaches rapidly, and I’ve been contemplating how to make 2026 the best year yet.

So here is my (very personal) guide to a Fat and Happy New Year:

1. After repeated violations of my body boundaries, I’m cutting toxic, body-shaming people out of my life. It’s been happening by degrees over the past few years, but when comments are no longer just being said to me, but to MY CHILDREN, that is something I cannot abide. Ending a relationship hurts, true, but I’ll do what’s necessary to protect myself and my kids from body negativity.

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2. I’m reading a LOT of romance novels. For the plot. Obviously. No, seriously though. Per bell hooks, “Harlequins serve as an important fantasy vehicle that offers an escape route for women trapped in dysfunctional families…The central therapeutic message in Harlequin romances is you will not be abandoned What I am still seeking is that love that will not let me down” (quoted in this article from the Washington Post in 1999). It’s not so much that I need a rescue from a dysfunctional family (unless we’re talking about my family of origin, and then see #1 on this post). But the stories get me inspired to live a bigger life, one in love with words and stories and love itself. In 2025, I’ve read 70+ romance novels. To be honest, I started in July with Fourth Wing and have read voraciously since then. I’m not sure how many I’ll read in 2026, but I know it will be a good amount.

3. I’ve chosen my word of the year for 2026: HAPPY. And I’ll be pondering its reality and aspirations to it in my fat body. Things I know that make me happy?

   1. nerdy jokes with my husband

   2. laughing and singing Hamilton with my kids

   3. a clean home and car [WORK IN PROGRESS]

   4. regular talks with my best friends

   5. cultivating new friendships

   6. writing more…fingers crossed!

Now, dearest gentle reader, I’m desperate to know—what is making you HAPPY as we leave 2025 behind and begin 2026, the year of the horse?

Love, peace, and joy at new beginnings,

Amanda <3

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I am in mourning.

Mourning for my siblings who, despite the abundance of their bodies, feel the sting of scarcity.

I, too, feel this sting.

This sting that says, “There is only so much love to give; there is not enough for you in your abundance of flesh.”

I mourn for all of us. Especially this week where we in the United States will prepare a feast that we refuse to allow ourselves to indulge in, perhaps.

I mourn for the scarcity that plagues us because of aspiring billionaires’ greed.

I mourn for the catalogue of desires that we have hidden beneath our beds, afraid to let ourselves want, even when we pray.

I mourn for my children, who have only known bodily abundance, but who live in this world of scarcity when it comes to fatness and plush flesh.

Abundance is ours, beloved. It is not just a fantasy—our bodies prove this truth.

Let my body stand as a testimony to such abundance. Let the rolls on my hips and the belly for days proclaim—There is enough for me. For you. For all of us.

Today, I have the amazing privilege to share an interview with one of my favorite authors, Leonor Soliz. She has written over 10 books (all of which I have voraciously read—some multiple times!) and includes diversity, progressive themes, and plus-size female main characters (FMCs)!

1. How do you identify? For example, I’m a fat and disabled, white Latina cis woman. My pronouns are she/her.

I am a fat, racialized, white-presenting Latina immigrant and a cis woman in a straight-presenting monogamous relationship. My pronouns are she/her.

2. Tell us a little about yourself!

I was born and raised in Chile. I moved to Canada more than a decade ago for love! While I’m a therapist for my day job, I’ve been writing Meet Cutes since I was eight years old. Love stories have always been important to me, and I wrote many unfinished novels and tens of short stories.

It wasn’t until the start of 2022 that something clicked and I realized I could actually publish my stories and be an author. My debut came out in November 2022 and, three years later, I feel like I just began.

3. What drew you to writing spicy Happily Ever Afters?

I have always loved romance. It was always my favorite part of any story! Due to cultural reasons back home, I didn’t know Romance was a genre until I came to Canada. Once I found books about falling in love and intimacy that guaranteed a happily ever after, I never looked back.

In a similar manner, every story I ever wrote was Romance-- even when I didn’t know it. When I realized I could publish my writing as an author, writing spicy HEAs was as natural as breathing. It’s what I’ve always known and loved!

4. Ethical billionaires, huh? How’d you decide to go with that route for one of your series?

The honest answer to this is that, at the time, I was experimenting with finding a niche for my stories. I had learned that to have visibility in the sea of options, finding a smaller corner of the Romance genre could be a good idea. That’s how I landed in the Billionaire Romance world.

At the same time, I’ve always wanted to write stories that made sense to me. I only want to write stories that feel authentic to who I am! That’s why I knew I needed to make my billionaires ethical. While I don’t believe ethical billionaires exist in the real world, having wealthy characters allowed me to explore the fantasy of endless access, security, and freedom. The world is your oyster if you don’t have to worry about paying the bills at the end of the month! But I also knew I wanted to explore the interaction between that and privilege, social responsibilities, and ethical use of power.

5. Did you start writing your own meet cutes in order to see yourself in the genre?

Even though I didn’t start writing with that in mind, it was a beautiful discovery as I wrote books to be published. Writing Latina, racialized, big-bodied FMCs came naturally to me. Words appeared on the page without me planning them!

One day, while writing my second book, I wrote the FMC, Ely, wearing a bikini and walking confidently toward Alex, the hero. I described “little earthquakes all over her body” as she moved. I felt such joy-- something akin to body euphoria-- writing that, that I knew right then I would forever write characters like her. Like me.

6. How does your “everyday life” inform your writing?

Being a therapist can take a toll on your soul. At least, it does for me. As rewarding as it is, burnout is a real threat. Especially when you’re aware of moral injuries, and you realize that there’s little you can do to change the world to be safer and more fair to everyone.

That’s where my books come in. In my stories, I get to create a world I would love to live in. Happily ever afters are guaranteed in Romance, where they’re not for myself or my clients.

7. It’s so empowering to see women more like me in books with romance and spice. Have your readers responded to that?

I think a large part of my readers gave my books a try because they hoped to see themselves in a Romance. In all honesty, I think there’s a subsection of my readers who have stayed because of it! Even when they may not usually gravitate to slow burn, feel-good stories.

Beyond that, I have a few experiences that tell me, yes, they can matter to people. From DMs to opportunities like this one, to people tearing up when they meet me (it really happened and I will never forget), I think there are readers who see something valuable to them in my books.

This is incredibly important to me. My books are authentic and represent big pieces of me. There’s a lot of vulnerability in sharing myself like this in public through my books and my presence. When someone sees themselves in my stories, they see parts of me too and resonate with that. It helps me feel less alone.

8. What do you want your readers to take away from your books?

I want my readers to come to my books knowing I will handle their heart with care. I want them to come to rest, knowing they will swoon, cry for the MCs to finally confess their feelings, fan themselves with the spice, and know they can ask all of that for themselves, too. My books will hopefully show them a way of being loved they get to have, and a love they wish they can live in, too. Maybe with that as a vision, we’ll be able to make it happen.

9. Anything else you want to share with my subscribers?

Thank you so much for giving me the chance to share a bit about me and my stories with you! If you loved what I had to say and are interested in books like mine, you can join my newsletter at leonorsoliz.com/newsletter - you’ll get three short stories as a gift if you do. You can follow me on social media, too! My most active profile is on Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/leonor.soliz/

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My students are amazing! Yes, they have their struggles, but they are simply a delight—even the more difficult ones. Of course, I have had days where I’m at my wits end with them, but a majority of the time, they surprise me with their thoughtfulness, joy, and curiosity.

What about being fat while teaching? I have to admit, this is the hardest part of teaching, being in a fat body. My students have made innocent comments and have asked innocent questions about my food preferences or why I’m out of breath after doing the stairs, and I do admit, it’s emotionally challenging to respond well in these instances.

We have had conversations about all bodies being good bodies and how wrinkles and gray hair are okay! I know these small and seemingly inconsequential conversations are sowing good seeds, but it’s sometimes hard to remember that in the thick of it.

Some things I’m doing to keep myself grounded in the truth:

1. Practicing peace when fear of rejection rises in me. I cling to the reality of the love I have for myself and the love my family and friends have for me.

2. Repeating my mantras, which I know align with my values. All bodies are good bodies. The purpose of my body is relationship, not perfection. I am enough; I am not too much.

3. Having a blast in a fat body!

Regarding literature and reading, these kids are going to change the world. I’m so honored to be an integral part of their growing and educational journey.

Stories are life!

Amanda Martinez Beck

The song The Blues by Switchfoot is on my mind this morning, as so many questions swirl in my mind…

Is this the New Year, or just another night?
Is this the new fear, or just another fright?
Is this the new tear, or just another desperation?

Is this the finger, or just another fist?
Is the kingdom, or just a hit-and-miss?
I miss direction most in all this desperation

Is this what they call freedom?
Is this what you call pain?
Is this what they call discontented fame?

I’m entering the elementary classroom this fall for the first time as a teacher—in only 10 days—and I have so many questions. I haven’t been in 5th grade since 1994-1995, so I’m kinda flying blind.

What if they make fun of my body?

What if the students hate me?

What if I can’t actually do this?

These questions—and so many more—threaten to overwhelm me. I have taught at the college level for many years. Teaching has been one of my passions, whether it’s Spanish or great texts…but 5th grade reading?

I have so many dreams for these kids.

“Literacy is our greatest civil right.” That’s a quote from Kareem Weaver that I learned on the first day of new teacher orientation. No pressure, right? I’m responsible for helping these students read, and read well. It’s not just the standardized test I’m preparing them for—it’s life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.

What if I can’t actually do this?

The questions push at my mind every morning during teacher training. But something else rises within me as I bring my whole self to the table, my fat and disabled self.

Life is incarnational, not transactional. I’m not here to deposit knowledge and receive a paycheck; I’ll be here, living and breathing and working with these kids so that they first know that they are loved and accepted, and second, so they know the great power of stories in their lives. The reading is corollary to these goals: for them to know the power of love and the power of stories.

In my fatness, in my disability, I bring a story of resilience and love to the table. My weakness isn’t a liability; it’s an asset, the hinge that can turn the wall of the human heart into a door.

If you’re the praying type, send some up for me. Or good vibes or positive energy—I’ll take all of it.

Where are you being drawn to incarnation—the flesh and blood and soul and spirit of it all? Where are you resisting the transactional mindset and drawing strength from your core to live in your today body?

Peace and solidarity,

Amanda Martinez Beck

Happy Monday, Fat Dispatch subscribers!

No-Zempic Monday is a resource for paid subscribers to the Fat Dispatch, wherein I discuss GLP-1 news and offer a diet-culture-free take on the drug, including a weekly affirmation to help focus ourselves on the goodness of our bodies and the reality that we don’t need to lose weight to be worthy.

Today I want to talk about polycystic ovary syndrome (PCOS), a disease which I have had since I started my period, some 25+ years ago. (Wow, has it really been that long?)

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Happy Friday from the Fat Dispatch!

This post is coming a little later than normal because, well, I got stuck in a book.

A couple weeks ago, I was venting to my friend about how I might need to use an accessibility device in the upcoming school year. She told me what I already knew but needed to hear— “If you need to use it, there’s no shame.”

Then she said, “Have you read Fourth Wing by Rebecca Yaros?”

I hadn’t, but I checked it out as soon as I could.

The story of Fourth Wing follows 20-year-old Violet Sorrengail, the protagonist with weak joints and brittle bones, who has to claw her way into the ranks of dragon riders in her fictional homeland of Navarre.

At one point, her weakness is too much, and she has to use an accessibility device to be able to do what she needs to do.

And you know what? She’s still a badass.

Reading about Violet—who probably has Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome like her author, Rebecca Yarros—is so valuable because it shows me how a disabled person can embrace their perceived weakness and still be badass.

Over the past two weeks, I’ve read The Empyrean Series (Fourth Wing, Iron Flame, and Onyx Storm)…twice. Violet’s story had such a hold on me because I could see myself in her.

It really makes me want to write a book of my own, where I can share even more in common with a character. Maybe my protagonist will be fat. And disabled. The possibilities are truly endless.

What books have you been reading lately? Inspired to write your own?

Peace and solidarity,

Amanda Martinez Beck

Welcome to No-Zempic Monday, a weekly installment for my paid subscribers. Thank you for being here! No-Zempic Monday is a resource for those of us who are wary of the weight loss claims and diet culture that surround GLP-1 use (think Ozempic, Wegovy, Mounjaro…) and who are interested in the news about these drugs from a fat-positive and diet-culture-free perspective from someone who takes Ozempic. (Me!) :)

Today, I want to continue the conversation about GLP-1s and romance. If you’ve been subscribed for a while, you will remember that we talked about this topic back in February, around Valentine’s Day. I wrote a piece for The Fat Dispatch called (Post-) Ozempic Romance, which

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Happy Friday from the Fat Dispatch! Usually on Fridays, I send out a short missive outlining some kind of discussion about my experience of the world as a fat woman.

Titling this particular post with a question mark (Fat Patriot?) indicates that I’m not so declarative about this one, and I’ll tell you why.

It’s no secret that since 2016, I’ve been begging people to stop supporting 45/47. He is a terrible person and his leadership of our country has been a veritable poop storm. But the Christian Nationalism that paved the way for his election is honestly much more concerning to me. Christians I know, the ones who taught me that character matters, the ones who instilled in me a love for the Bible and its message of salvation for the poor and oppressed…these Christians, turns out, have worshipped access to power more than proximity to the weak and broken.

Christian Nationalism has subverted the message of Christianity from the cross—a message of humble death for the sake of others—to a triumphalism, wherein we have power in this world by the world’s terms. I’m afraid that we’re headed to a reality where the Church is wedded to the State. I don’t believe this was the motivation of the founding fathers and mothers of our country, for whom the separation of Church and State was paramount.

The threat of Christian Nationalism is intimately partnered with white supremacy, and before my eyes, I see state-sanctioned racism progressing in real time as people of color—specifically brown people—are arrested and sent to concentration camps because of what they look like and where they were born.

It’s hard to believe in the United States when things are this bad.

In a few weeks, I’ll enter the classroom as a 5th-grade reading teacher. As I’ve spent time in my new classroom, I’ve stared at the flags hanging from the wall. The red, white, and blue of the American flag and the Texas flag make me simultaneously mad and sad. What do I tell the children about this world that we’re all surviving in?

Every day, we’ll pledge allegiance to these flags. How can I do that when things are so broken?

I have to look to the vision of the United States, not her reality right now. And I don’t just mean the vision of the founding fathers—they excluded women and anyone but white people from theirs. I’m talking about the vision of America that shimmers in the dark, a place where anyone can make it. A land of beauty not in spite of but because of her immigrants and her diversity. A land that will have to grapple with her history of white supremacy and Christian Nationalism, but one that I believe will overcome these ugly realities.

That’s the United States that I’m going to teach for, that I’m going to tell my students about, that I’m going to pledge to.

What is your vision for the United States? How does that affect your day-to-day life?

In solidarity and peace,

Amanda Martinez Beck

There’s a trope going around that is a very common assumption, that obesity is caused by an addiction to food.

Indeed, there are addiction-treatment programs that are using GLP-1s to combat addictions other than food, leaning into this trope. “If it works for food addiction,” they reason, “it can work for opioids and the like.” (Like they’re doing in this article.)

But here’s the problem with this line of reasoning: obesity isn’t caused by an addiction to food, because food addiction isn’t a thing.

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