Fat Stew

Gotta let it simmer a little...

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?