It's Just a Word

When I started this blog, I anticipated some resistance to (or at least commentary about) my liberal use of the word "fat". One friend, reading the first two posts across from me at a booth at a bar, winced every time she read it. (She winced at other things as well.) Another friend wrote me a long, solicited, and thoughtful email. At one point she referred to "untraditional bodies" and then clarified: I refuse to use the word "fat" or "plus sized" for many reasons. "Full" or "thick" don't help either. I haven't found a word that works for me, but you get the point.

I do. I think that most people who are or have been overweight struggle with terminology. I have a really hard time with the word "obese." To me, the word sounds oily. Greasy. Dripping with fat. But I am very aware that this is a purely personal association. I think that some people PREFER this term, simply for the fact that it is clinical, and therefore less comparative or judgemental.

I thought long and hard about how to refer to my body in this blog. I decided on "fat" for the following reasons: 1) it is direct. Three letters. One of the first words that many of us learn to read in English (literally, for me. The readers that I learned literacy from centered their stories on "Nat the fat cat"). It is also NOT euphemistic. It is honest. 2) it makes people uncomfortable. Partially because it IS direct. But also because it is 3) political. The word--the idea--of fat is a contested one in our world. What is it? Is it good or bad? If it is bad, at what point does it become bad? To what extent is fat-ness private and to what extent is it public? (These are all questions that I am interested in taking on--I am thinking of the First Lady's decision to make "childhood obesity" her pet project, or Kevin Smith's widely reported tiff with Southwest Airlines.) If my project here is to discuss weight in an unflinching and honest way, I don't think that I can do so without using this word.

But I also think that it is important to query the word itself. I start with the Oxford English Dictionary definition. 2a states, Of animals or human beings, their limbs, etc. In well-fed condition, plump, well supplied with fat. If there is a connotation here, it is a positive one. The definition implies plenty. Enough-ness. Satiety. These things are desirable and attractive. And then things get complicated. 2b: In unfavorable sense: overcharged with fat, corpulent, obese. There is a line of demarcation. "Enough" becomes "too much." Fat now implies taking up too much space. Or too many resources. We are told that this is seen as "unfavorable." Lurking behind both of these definitions is the idea of comparison. In definition 2e: Of larger size than is usual; large in comparison with others of the same species. Here, the idea of comparison is foregrounded.

The comparative element confuses the issue. There are no actual standards for "fat." Recently, an 8 year old who I spend a lot of time with was making a point to me. He said something about the fact that I was fat. Then he stopped (because, I happen to know, his parents have told him privately that it is impolite to say that someone is fat directly to him or her. But he also knows, because I have been open about my weight with him, that I don't react as if it is impolite) and said, That's ok, right? Because you know that you are fat? I mean, you know that you are not normal. I agreed, for the sake of the conversation. But I could quibble with this point. I can buy clothes off the rack. I fit into cars and airplane seats (even on Southwest flights). I don't break chairs or toilet seats. In that sense, I DO, it seems to me, fit somewhere on the spectrum of normal. Further, I am not always, or even usually, the largest person in the room. The OED disappoints in this last definition because the definition relies on vague and subjective terms. Large in what way? What is "usual"? How do we understand the word "species"?

I have already written about myself as an elementary-aged child. I was certainly "larger" than almost all my fellow fourth-graders, both in terms of height and weight. (Boys and girls. But I was definitely the tallest and biggest girl.) But I wasn't fat. I think that I was always in the 90+ percentile for height and weight as a child. But I still wasn't fat. I developed faster and earlier than most of the other girls. But I also STOPPED developing earlier than they did.

My recent experiences with hiking would support the idea that I am easily larger than the species of "hikers." (In fact, I'm definitely the largest hiker I've seen in the last week.) But I am downright tiny when compared to the majority of the species of "Wal-Mart shoppers." (And don't give me a bunch of crap about this being stereotypical or prejudiced. There is definitely an overabundance of heavy people at Wal-Mart.)

Eating disorders feed on the slippage afforded by comparison and lack of standards. In a group of anorexic girls, the one who weighs 98 pounds may, in fact, be the "largest" of her species. But she still isn't fat.

Even my friend's use of the term "untraditional body" implies comparison. My body may be "untraditional" because of my weight. But someone who is 4 foot 10 is also untraditional. As is someone who is 7 feet. Or someone who is missing a limb.

There is a second complication with regard to these definitions. The OED acknowledges, at least to some degree, the role of association and connotation in defining the term "fat". I became curious about that. So I looked up other simple adjectives that describe comparative size. Thin, definition 1c: Having little flesh; lean, spare, not fat or plump. Short, definition 2a: Low in stature: opposed to tall. Tall, definition 6a: Of a person: High of stature: of more than average height. Usually appreciative.

Only the definition of "tall" comments on judgement and connotation. Still, it seems to me that this is a more neutral statement than what is provided for "fat."

So why does the term "fat" seem to be so much more complicated and contested than the simple adjectives of relative size in its same class? I don't totally know how to answer that question. But I have one thought. More than the other terms in that class, fat is often associated with other, distinctly negative, descriptors. (Sure, there is "tall, dark and handsome", but that only relates to a small class of tall men. And I suppose that we may tend to associate short--again mostly men--with the Napoleonic complex. But again, this is a limited association.) Consider this list:

Fat and slow.
Fat and lazy.
Fat and disgusting.
Fat and unattractive.
Fat and sweaty.
Fat and smelly.
Fat and unhealthy.

(To be fair, there is also "fat and jolly" but this is a description that is mostly attached to Santa Claus and self-destructive male comedians.)

If I had to guess, my friend who winced at my use of the term fat was not thinking of it as the opposite of thin. My guess is that the word carries with it, for her, all of the other negative words and images above. And I think that is true for most of us. It is hard to divorce the word from those associations and stereotypes.

But, as much as possible, I want to define myself as a "fat girl" in the most neutral way possible. To define myself in comparison to people who are not fat. I also want to use this word in order to explore some of the baggage that comes with it--baggage that often is based on myth or misinformation. When I call myself "fat" I am not tacitly accepting that I am slow, lazy, disgusting, unattractive, sweaty, smelly or unhealthy. Or jolly, for that matter. These descriptions need to be accepted or rejected on their own merit rather than as part of an associative package deal.