Today Is My Birthday

and i think the best present i gave myself this year was finding this little, sometimes silly, sometimes problematic, but mostly uplifting and inspiring fat positive community that has helped me walk with a little more bounce in my step and conspire with other fatties to claim some space for ourselves. i love you greatly, interweb family <3

and yes, i will be eating some fucking delicious cake ;)

reflections on fatty shopping and a request

i’ll start with the request. it’s a friday night. you might not read the rest of this. i am looking for:

-WIDE ASS CALF RAINBOOTS preferably in red and preferably cute. all these rainboots cut off circulation to my legs. that is, if they even get up past just above my calves.

-CUTE FREAKIN RETROESQUE BATHINGSUIT. facebook ads keep showing me the cutest yellow and red bikinis. i’m not buying a onepiece. i’m not buying skorts. i want a fucking bikini. where can i find a good one.

and to the reflection…

so i needed a raincoat because Kingston is starting it’s MONSOON season. Sears sizes are full of shit. so i opted to run across the street to Pennington’s Plus. which i have, shockingly, never been in before. and boy oh boy was i so at home. 

FAT STAFF. who fucking know what it’s like to be fat and be wearing clothes as a fatty and shopping for clothes as a fatty.

BRAS. holy jeeze. i have been trying to find nice bras for this rack for so long now. they were a touch pricey but so worth it.

COLOURS AND PATTERNS AND STYLES. not hiding fat bodies in black stuff.

it was such a good experience after years and years of dealing with 00-14 (and more realistically, 00-10) stores and dealing with snarking staff and the horror of the fitting room.

i mean, i want to recognize the complications about fatness and capital. it’s really expensive to clothe a fat body in fat-store clothes. i think it’s probably more fruitful to make your own clothing but that in itself requires tools (sewing machine etc.) and fabric and time and skill. and thrifting is sparse for big folks. it’s weird. i wonder what the top execs are like at plus size stores. are they plus size too, taking the power back (or exploiting other fatties, depending how you want to approach it) or are they thin folks who have mastered the capitalist cycle and just happen to run the chain?

3D Me (Origami Love) by carla moore

this is a piece written by one of the most rad fatties i know. i had the pleasure of performing it in our campus’s re-imagining of the VagiMons, a show called “Down There.”

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i keep adjusting the chair so you have a frontal view of me

to take myself down to one dimension

avoid the 3D

so you can’t see how wide i really am

if you were to see me naked

…if you were to see me naked

it would only be in this one set of panties

that stop half way up my stomach

so you cant see where the fold is

and you’d never see my back

because that’s where the flab lives

if you would ever see me naked

you would only see half of me

and that’s the size of a full human anyways

its not that i don’t love me

i just don’t expect you to love it

time has taught me that i am beautiful

but i am different

and people don’t like different

use it to get their props

use it to  make themselves feel better

i’m not racist i’m friends with a black kid

im not size-ist

i fuck a fat chick

and there will be mo more people

seeking validation through my vagina


when i sit with you

i form a 45 degree angle

between the outer tip of my breasts

and the side of your body

this is my best angle

i tuck my shirt into the correct folds

i smooth it down and wonder if i should buy different underwear

my body is rebellious


refusing to fall in line

to obey

the demand

to stay in place

i wonder what you see

when i laugh at the things you say to me

because you are amusing

and because i do like you

i make sure to tilt my head back

never forward

because then my double chins multiply

and i can hear the ho ho ho

and santa is in a long term monogamous relationship

with a woman that looks just like him

i’ve never heard a story about red velvet dating

or rudolph pulling up in a side alley to interrupt him getting felt up

or doing the feeling as the case may be

nobody wants to fuck santa


its not that i don’t love me

in the day time

i open the windows

take my towel off

and play the duttiest song i know

with the baddest bassline

and shake myself into ecstasies

i laugh and pivot

revel in all the inches of me

its not sexual


something else

i love me

i feel me

i see …everything

and i like it


but i am different

and i am done hoping someone will abandon their norms for me

to fight with themselves to see the value in me

see the skinny woman that lives in me

i didn’t eat the bitch

this is all me

i won’t abide by chubby chasers

i am not a fetish, please


and i don’t want to be your fat fantasy fuck

the thing you did one saturday night

to see what its like

if you slap me will i jiggle

and how long will it take to stop

there is no work to be done here

nothing i should have to do to make you want me


but still

i find myself

in this open air paradise

flocks of egrets all around

covered in trinkets and high heels

finding the 45 degree angle

and laughing, head thrown back

i imagine i look like a screen starlet

or someone equally coy

so you see my neck and not my chins


its not that i don’t love me

but i don’t expect you to


you won’t ever get out of the way of you

smooth the folds

i love them when i touch them

but i do not expect you to touch them for me

one dimensional

two dimensional


one dimensional

two dimensional


Two Steps Forward...

today my mother again reiterated that by having fat around my midsection I am endangering myself and am very likely to get diabetes. that sucked.

but she asked me how i felt about that and i told her that i have worked very hard to undo the years of damage of living with a stepmother who constantly told me i was fat and unworthy. i told her that i’m finally at a better place and when she and my grandmother rag on me about weight it really undermines that success.

so you know. baby steps.

yuletide body autonomy powerpunch!
  • CP:I really need to go get some soup. I haven't eaten all day and I'm starved. *runs to get the full fat, full sodium celery soup*
  • Stepmother:Oh that's soooo full of sodium.
  • CP:That's fine. It's my body.
  • (which is a big effin' step as this woman is the one who taught me to hate my body so feverishly. year one of standing up for myself. WABAM!)
fatness is contextual

so this is a new truth for me. i think it was somewhere in my brain before but much more real to me now.

i’ve been in the “real world” for a few months now (i.e. not in school). and it’s made me realize how my fatness is entirely contextual. by this i mean that at my privileged mid-sized university where normative bodies were the overwhelming average (in all their white-but-tanned, perfectly-toned, able-bodied glory). in conversations where i positioned my fatness and discussed my fatness and my experience of fatness and that i self-identify as fat no one blinked. not to say that my body wasn’t heavily judged and regulated and insulted…but if i said, “I am fat” it wasn’t really a question (save for my friends who try and pull the, “honey, you’re not faaaat…” consoling.

that and burlesque. while my troupe is fatter-than-average and there are awesome things like the BIg Bodied Burlesque Collective and troupes like Rubenesque Burlesque (google both. now.) there is still a lot of body normativity. so i always identify as a fat performer. and there are folks smaller than i who identify as fat performers.

but in my work community and in my local BDSM community i’m comparatively not that fat. and when i get the “you’re not fat” it’s generally from a person who is larger than me who is kind of miffed that i call myself fat…mayhaps from hearing it from the hordes of skinny girls who’ve been brainwashed to body-hate and call themselves fat in a negative sense.

so i guess i’m a wee privileged in the range of fatness…i buy smaller sizes at the plus size stores…i do get significantly less bullshit from people. but it’s forcing me to rethink my fatness.

in my manifesto i said that FAT IS A STATE OF MIND. and i firmly believe that. i think fatness is a desire to push against body restrictions that have been set forth. my fatness is also rooted in a love of my self (although imperfect. still have shit days. like Saturday.) that has taken me so long to find. i love myself so much more now at 200+ lbs than i think i did at 130.

but here’s the thing: i’m questioning my right to self-identify as fat. which is funny, because i’m fat. it takes more than two hands to grab my excess, my family tends to be douchey about my weight and my doctors are still assholes about it too. i cannot buy clothes as easily as others and my ass is too big for the airplane (although that one’s not too hard).

this is just a meditation on fathood and i welcome any conversation around it.

FattyIdolFriday: how could i miss this one? edition.

without further ado about nothing, this week’s Fattabulous Fatty is none other than…


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when you’re good to Mama, Mama’s good to youuuu.

so my burlesque show last weekend included a lot of Chicago songs and i was reminiscing about the casting choices for the movie and was reminded of how goshdamn awesome Queen Latifah is in this film. lady can sing.

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which reminded me that she had a singing career at one point. and it was great.

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and she can save any god-forsaken script thrown at her. worst movie ever. Latifah still shines.

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that smile could melt Rick Perry’s stone-cold racist heart.

now, when you google ‘Queen Latifah’ and 'fat’ in the same line, you get some weird shit about her struggling with her weight…which might just be projections of fatty-haters thinking that she’s got a skinny-lady inside of her or some shit. but regardless, she is quoted as saying. “I don’t want to be a supermodel; I want to be a role model.” and for that, i love her.

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but she’s humble as fuck. now while i’m recognizing her for her awesomeness wrapped in a fat body, she likes to bring herself and other celebs down a peg. She says, “There’s no way I can represent for everyone. I can’t represent for all women or all big women or all black women. It’s important for people not to make celebrities their source of who they should be in life. I can’t take on the pressure of being perfect. Nobody is.” now she’s not my source of who i should be. i like me pretty damn fine. but she is a definite inspiration.