, of course — I faced a bunch of my own issues when I started dating women who were smaller than I am — but the queer worlds I move through have also been spaces that tend to champion all kinds of bodies. And why not? The mainstream tells trans people that their bodies are freaky, wrong,, while telling lesbians they’re fat, ugly, unfuckable bull dykes. Sometimes it’s hard to ignore all that hatred — but in other ways, it’s easier, too.
One of the ways I’ve tried ignoring mainstream demands that I starve myself smaller — to which I acquiesced for a couple of years as a teenager, to the point of hospitalization — is by attempting to control the media I consume, particularly social media. We’re pretty much all aware that a wrong turn on Instagram, in particular, can mean an hour’s worth of #fitspiration scrolling and at least a day’s worth of feeling shitty about yourself. Studies have famouslythat “Instagram usage may negatively influence women’s appearance-related concerns and beliefs.” Algorithms, at this point, are more powerful than us all, but I still try to curate my Instagram experience to make it as delightful as possible.
Even better, I follow women and other queer people with various body types, to the extent that my feed is a lovely kaleidoscope of humanity instead of just a depressing stream of tanned, flat bellies. Lindy West, in her memoir
Because obesity causes serious health problems.