Thinking about starting a subreddit for people who want to find furniture, sports equipment, etc (anything but clothes) for people who are fat or tall or otherwise don't fit standard dimensions.
Basically 'consumer reports for people who are more than 250lbs and/or 6ft tall'
Reasons why subreddit:
allows people to post their own questions
allows for reasonable moderation already
gives pretty good SEO out of the gate
allows for tagging so people can filter posts
has decent search engine built in
allows for NSFW/18+ content with tags so questions about sex toys, etc can be asked
Rules I'm already thinking of:
Recommendations and questions both allowed, but no self-promotion on individual posts or maybe on one day a month or something (keeps down the spammers!)
Related: no surveys/market research
No diet talk at all
No judgement (about things that are usually disability related but get shamed, like 'best way to put on my socks when I have trouble bending over')
This is generally for goods, not services, so no asking about therapists, doctors, etc.
This is not a complaint forum, but you can post your personal negative experiences as an anti-recommendation on a question.
(What I don't want: a post that's just 'I hate this company because of a single bad experience!' What I would be OK with: a post about yoga equipment where someone shares that their foam blocks from X company collapsed after a few uses)
Anyone else on Reddit interested in helping? Is this something that already exists elsewhere I can just join?
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here’s to unhealthy fat people
if ur fat bcuz ur disabled. disabled bcuz ur fat. are unhealthy for other reasons, unrelated to fatness. unhealthy bcuz ur fat. are fat because of things like diabetes.
a lot of body positivity is about ‘being fat isn’t inherently unhealthy’ which, yes, while this is true, there are outliers. for some people being fat is unhealthy. that’s okay. they deserve positivity too!
you’re not morally wrong for struggling. you aren’t a bad stereotype. you’re a person. there are so many people out there and such a wide range of experiences that it’s bound someone like you exists. that’s okay. you’re okay.
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“The fear of being fat is the fear of joining an underclass that you have so readily dismissed, looked down on, looked past, or found yourself grateful not to be a part of. It is a fear of being seen as slothful, gluttonous, greedy, unambitious, unwanted, and, worst of all, unlovable. Fat has largely been weaponized by straight-size people — the very people it seems to hurt most deeply. And ultimately, thin people are terrified of being treated the way they have so often seen fat people treated or even the way they’ve treated fat people themselves. In that way, thinness isn’t just a matter of health or beauty or happiness. It is a cultural structure of power and dominance.” - Aubrey Gordon
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When I say that I want to be evil
what I mean is I want to be powerful. What I mean is I want to be free.
Some weeks ago I spent more money than I should have on my first ever (ever!) two-piece swimsuit. You have to understand that as a child I was told I was fat, and as a teen I was told I was fat, and as an adult I've always been fat*, and you can't read your way out of the shame caused not strictly by the word but by its connotations.
(I know, because I've tried. I have been trying for almost twenty years. Looking for plus-sized fashion brought me to the digital 'fatosphere.' It made me a better person as I learned about another dimension of intersectionality and about power and oppression. It made me feel like I could wear clothing that I liked. It made me more informed about the diet and wellness industry. It's been over 20 years since I first read a critique of the BMI; it's been almost as long since I started wondering why gros/se in my close-second language didn't have the same (haha) weight to it as fat does, in my first.)
At the tail end of June, days long and scorching, I stepped into a two-piece swimsuit with a deep-v neckline and my whole midsection exposed and I spent the day in full view of dozens (hundreds?) of strangers. Cold, cold water on the joints; warm, soft pools for the evening. My hair got bigger and bigger. My neck and chest sunburned. My midriff stayed comically, blindingly pale, and everything else? It was lovely; it was fine. I rarely thought about my body, unless it was 'this feels nice' or 'my swimsuit is so pretty.' I took a selfie, even, though I deleted it. I was worried that posting it would count as thirst-trapping; shame has cored out and replaced so much of me. It was a good pic, though, and I wish I'd kept it.
What was true of me that day: I was a quite tall, very fat femme person whose feet swell with arthritis and whose hair takes up the entire frame and who's had cellulite since grade eight. What else was true: many people complimented my swimsuit. I looked out across the valleys and the mountains from the top of my almost-six-feet. I let my shoulders roll back and smiled at the sight of my bare skin gone blue-wavering-dappled beneath the surface. I stood tall. I made eye contact. I enjoyed delightful company, and let that enjoyment extend to the simple pleasure of having a body that felt fairly good, in garments I had chosen for the joy of it.
You can't read your way out of shame; it's only part of the equation. I didn't go swimming the next day with my family members, because I didn't want to feel them looking at my body and being disappointed that What A Beautiful Girl turned out like I did (though: if What A Beautiful Girl then why You Need To Watch What You Eat?). But for an entire day I felt like anyone else, gentle enough, good enough, in my skin.
It would have been good for me to swim with my family that weekend, because I'm finding that - as in all things - the practice is important. You can't read your way out of shame, not entirely, but in working with and through it there's maybe a chance to rewrite our stories.
There's a fallacy that I think a lot of us fall into, when we're trying to counter and challenge fatphobia, both culturally and in ourselves. It's the fallacy of the Good Fat. It's why I want to tell you about how two-pieces are maybe a better swimwear choice for me because of the drastic difference between my tits and hips vs my waist. It's why I wanted to post that selfie, so people could shoutycaps and fire emoji me on twitter. It's why I want to craft this post into a narrative where spending a single day mostly-unburdened by body shame has led to a hot girl summer, and I'm walking for miles every day and going to the pool four times a week. (I'm not. I still have a day job, and writing to do, and a physical disability, and the ol' depression. I'm more active than I was three months ago, and working to improve that, but still. It's not a lot.)
It is, simply, the same lie as we tell ourselves along so many different axes of marginalization: that as long as we are exceptional in a way equal and opposite to our marginalization, we'll be fine. It's the model that says you earn the right to exist fat and unashamed by being healthy, by being active, by being hot. Sorry my hip is squished against yours on the airplane; at least I've got a nice face and good hair and am well-dressed, wanna admire my hip-to-waist ratio about it?
There's no such thing as a Good Fat because we live in an inherently fatphobic world. I mean: airplane seats are too small for anyone average sized. I mean: 20 years ago I was a size 16/18 and couldn't fit into the newer lecture hall seats at my university without a lot of stress and embarrassment. I mean: I can't buy a compression sleeve for my arthritic joints at the drug store. If I ever needed to take Plan B, it might not work because I weigh (as do most adults of my acquaintance) more than 165lbs. You cannot be hot enough or active enough or well-dressed enough to escape from this; the only option is to be Not Fat.
But why on earth would we want to accept this? We know the system is fucked up and evil, and so: we want to be evil. Just a little bit, just enough. We want to be hot villains. We want to serve cunt and to be cunts. We want to nailcare emoji, fire emoji, crown emoji, and we want to take no prisoners unless it's between our thick thick thighs. Sit on their face; if they die, they die. It's fun and sexy, in a world where "everything is sex, except sex, which is power" to dig in and grab handfuls of what looks like empowerment, fuck the rest of it, get what makes you feel best.
It's a mirage; freedom doesn't live there.
Because of course fat people are hot. Fat bodies are desirable. Fat bodies are strong, sometimes, and athletic, sometimes, and powerful in whatever way you'd like to read that. That's true no matter what.
And yet (this will hurt) fat bodies are still (I'm sorry, I'm so sorry) not good enough. If the system is the problem, your individual empowerment is not the (whole) solution.
When I say that I want to be evil, what I mean is I want to be free. I want the strange rare days I've known I was desirable because I was desired, specifically and individually. I want the days where I grant myself dignity. I want the day where I lived peacefully in my mostly-naked body around hundreds of strangers, and went to bed happy.
Reading is input, it's taking in. I can't read my way all the way out of fatphobia, out of body shame because that's like trying to put out a forest fire 2000km away by throwing baking soda on your stove element. (Not harmful, but insufficient and misdirected.) It has been so helpful to know that other people wrestle with all of this, in ways that are more intelligent and expert than mine; it doesn't change material reality, though.
It's not the shame that's the problem, but where it comes from. It's not my internalized fatphobia or low self-worth or lack of body confidence that keeps people from life-saving medical care because their doctors were obsessed with their weight instead of their symptoms. My soft abdomen has never shamed a stranger on the internet, my calves (never in tall boots) haven't forced someone to buy a second seat.
Maybe it's time that I redefine what I mean when I say I want to be evil. I want to be a hot villain that was justified in their takedown of the status quo. I want to put a crown on every head. I want these thick thighs under me as I pull you into my lap and love you, and to use those fire emojis to make room for new growth.
I want us all at the pool together, celebrating as the sun sets.
*I'm using "fat" to here mean something like "size 16 US women's or larger," but there's no good definition
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A mutual mentioned the link between fatness and gender in some tags today, and it made me realise that the way I experience the two doesn't really get talked about.
Specifically how being fat is a part of my gender. It's a part of my desired presentation, it's who I want to be in the world. Not just a man, but a fat man. To me, the thought of losing a significant amount of weight and the thought of having to stop HRT give me almost the same dread and anxiety. This is me. This is my body. I celebrate it a lot. Both my fatness and the hairs on my jaw and chins give me feelings of euphoria.
All this to say, the relationship between fatness and gender is a very interesting one, that I think a lot of people overlook, and that is rife with really interesting and cool experiences
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