Ending Fat Talk

A recent post on the Motherlode blog describes a summer camp’s effort to ban not only “fat talk,” but any talk about appearance. “Fat talk” refers to the almost automatic way people (often but not always women and girls) comment on their bodies. It’s a stream of “I know I shouldn’t eat this, but” “Does this make me look fat?” and “I hate my body part.” It also extends to comments on others’ bodies, as in “You look like you gained/lost weight.” It’s such a pervasive part of conversation that you almost don’t notice it.

For myself, I have tried to disengage from fat talk. I have heard enough from others about how uncomfortable it makes them to have their weight commented on, whether those comments are positive or negative. When it’s negative, it’s pretty straightforward why it’s troubling. When it’s positive, it can make you wonder what people have been thinking all those other times they didn’t say anything about how you look.

However, this camp is taking it a step further and trying to eliminate any commenting on any aspect of a person’s appearance. In place of saying, “You look nice,” they encourage “I feel happy to be around you.”

I imagine it feels a little forced for campers. At the same time, it brings a helpful focus on how much of our thoughts and conversation are tied up with weight and appearance.

It is almost reflexive to think about appearance. I think about it when I see babies. Research has shown that we are more likely to comment on a baby girl’s looks and a baby boy’s strength and ability. I always try to remember that and think of something else to comment on with a baby girl. It’s an extra cognitive step, because it is so ingrained to think about beauty.

I applaud this camp for at least trying to address this issue. It gives campers a summer to think about what else there is to notice about people other than the way they look. Perhaps they can carry it with them the rest of the year.

Letter to my Fat Son

In What I’d Say to My Fat Son, Joshua Max writes movingly about his experience as a fat kid.

He began as a chubby kid with a belly who didn’t hate himself or his body, and grew into a bulimic teenager and adult--a man who may have been of normal weight, but who was filled with shame and body hatred.

It took years--plus $5,000 worth of dental work to fix teeth damaged by stomach acid from repeated regurgitation--but Max has come to a place of peace and body acceptance. What helps him? Making peace with his body and with other people. Surrounding himself with supportive friends. Focusing on small ways to help others when he starts to feel badly about his appearance.

Max’s plan for his potential future son: encourage him to be active, teach him about healthy eating, and help him not to focus too much on his weight. Finally, Max hopes to help his son avoid making value judgments about weight. “If someone hurts his feelings about his size,” writes Max, “we’ll talk about how people are uncomfortable with fat people because they see them as lazy, stupid, incompetent and ugly, but that fat people are none of those things inherently and some skinny people are also those things.” These are wise words from which we all could learn.