Tubby: One 'fat' girls journey in body positivity
Content warning: This article discusses body image in a way that some readers may find distressing.
Big-boned, chunky, squishy, stout, tubby, or the age-old classic: fat – all terms that have been used to describe my body throughout my life. But it's the word "fat" that seems to carry a heavier weight, sparking uneasy pauses in conversation and awkward attempts to backtrack from the unintentional slip of a comment. This discomfort surrounding fatness reflects society's ongoing struggle with accepting body diversity. For me, these labels serve as a constant reminder that my body, without even trying, makes others uncomfortable.
Amid this lexicon of labels, I cannot help but question the genesis of the term tubby, which, in all earnestness, seems an odd choice. Surely, I'm not alone in wondering who decided tubby was an appropriate choice for describing fatness. And within that same thought, consider whether this term originated from the infamous Teletubbies. Who, with their big colourful bellies, provided comedic relief by joyously rolling down green, grassy hills.
At the tender age of five, giggling at Tinky-Winky and Laa-Laa, little did I know that my “tubby years” would later burden me with unmet societal expectations—something Po nor Dipsy would ever have to grapple with. As I transitioned out of my cushioned childhood, adolescence threw me deeper into a world where judgments were cast with ruthless precision, solely based on outward appearance. Words like "big-boned," "chunky," "squishy," "stout," or simply "fat" became unwelcome labels clinging to me like shadows, shaping my self-perception in unexpected ways.
The crux of frustration lies in the glaring disparity: whilst fictional characters like the Teletubbies are celebrated for their appearance, individuals deemed "fat" in my reality face mockery, bullying, and public ridicule. This enduring stigma against overweight individuals, shaped by society's perceptions of larger bodies, amalgamates into what Lindy West, an astute American writer and activist, so aptly terms as an "Alp of shame that crushes every fat person every day of their lives" (West, 2016).
By 2024, Body Positivity has gained widespread recognition as an ideology, aimed at empowering individuals and fostering acceptance of diverse body types. Numerous notable advocates have emerged, tirelessly promoting self-love and inclusivity to assert our rightful place in society's narrative. Nonetheless, it is essential to acknowledge that whilst the Body Positivity Movement has a history of fluctuating fortunes, setbacks often follow closely in the opposite direction.
Initially known as Fat Pride, Fat Power, or Fat Liberation, the roots of Body Positivity can be traced back to the 1960s. The movement then faced a major setback in the 1990s through the rise of the Heroin Chic aesthetic popularised by supermodels. This setback stunted the movement's progress for nearly two decades, only reclaiming motivation and evolving into its current form around 2010 (Cooper, 2016). Despite decades passing and the tireless efforts of dedicated individuals championing the cause, we've come to recognise that societal progress is inherently gradual. Although glimpses of body positivity now emerge infrequently within pockets of the Australian media and progressive metropolitan areas, the unfortunate reality persists: that many rural communities still grapple with this pervasive sense of shame—a truth I experienced firsthand.
As a woman navigating life in Australia, the cocktail of challenges I face is complex and potent. It comprises a blend of overt comments directed at me, mixed with a lack of diversity and representation in Australia’s media, all topped off with an omnipresent sense of global systemic shame. This concoction profoundly influences my life, creating a bittersweet awareness that I, and my body, are not the preferred choice. Each encounter with this perception serves as a poignant reminder of my inadequacies, leading me through a landscape fraught with insecurity and self-doubt. It's an ongoing struggle fueled by the enduring notion that your external appearance is of far more importance than who you are on the inside.
Growing up in regional Australia during the early 2000s, I adeptly steered through my adolescence, purposefully evading the barrage of labels: "Big-boned," "Chunky," "Squishy," "Stout," "Tubby," or simply "Fat". Survival demanded mastering the art of camouflage, a skill I refined from the age of fourteen when it became painfully clear that neither I nor my body, fit the mould desired by the boys at school.
My arsenal of evasion tactics, which I now cynically dub 'the tricks of the trade,' grew from a few discreet manoeuvres to a comprehensive playbook as I matured. The rules were religiously followed, each tactic strategically employed. They consisted of the following:
Never wear anything too tight that draws attention to your fat, but also avoid overly baggy clothing as it can make you appear “fatter”.
When lifting your arms, ensure your top is pulled down further than usual. This is to ensure that both your “chub” and stretch marks don’t pop out and scare the general public.
Be mindful of how your arms rest against your body to avoid accentuating their size.
Never wear underwear that isn’t full coverage as it lets the fat poke out. Ultimately, making your fat look much more noticeable.
In group photos, avoid standing next to the smallest person, as it makes you look twice as large.
If you decide to brave the beach in the unsightly one-piece you are forced to wear because they don’t make nice swimwear in your size, walk as fast as you possibly can from the shore to the sea to minimise exposure and judgment.
Never post full-length pictures of yourself or your body online.
Take measures to control sweating to avoid being perceived as the "sweaty fat girl" by others.
Periodically check your bra position to ensure it's not causing unsightly back rolls. Adjust as needed for a smoother silhouette.
Steer clear of wearing short clothing, even in the peak of Australia’s summer. We can’t subject the public to the cellulite all over your thighs.
Always wear two layers of Spanx when leaving the house to streamline your shape, but be prepared for inevitable sweating, complicating rule number eight.
Never change in front of your best friends; always find something to stand behind.
When pictures are taken of you, avoid standing side-on because it shows your belly. Also, avoid standing front on because that shows how wide your thighs are. Stand at a 45-degree angle to the camera with your nose lifted to hide your double chin.
Consider avoiding daytime or well-lit sex for the first six months of a relationship, or altogether.
Always suck in your stomach: do so when sitting down, when standing, when lying down. In fact, never relax your stomach.
If I were to retrace my steps to pinpoint the catalyst that inspired the many other tricks to follow, it would have to be the act of sucking in my stomach. Learning to do so was akin to playing the leading lady, trying to convince the audience that I was slim and, ultimately, still beautiful like every other girl during my adolescence. This 'trick,' as I later discovered, is clinically defined as 'hourglass syndrome,' a disorder that causes a myriad of health issues including but not limited to; pelvic floor damage, neck and back pain, and, in some cases, chronic respiratory problems (Dr. Gregory Minnis, 2022). Actively compressing my diaphragm and denying myself deep breaths for ten years resulted in what is known as the horizontal crease, a permanent mark I now wear on my stomach from prolonged abdominal constriction.
If you’re a veteran like me, these 'tricks' often embed themselves into your behaviour without you even realising it. Importantly, I want it to be known that there is no glorification in these tricks. These actions are by no means mere tricks; rather, they are psychologically defined as 'defence patterns' that ultimately take years to unlearn, some of which I still haven't overcome. What I desperately want other “fat” girls to know is that the years I spent hiding my body through these actions, attempting to make other people think I was skinny, achieved absolutely nothing of value. Instead, it only served to decimate my belief that I myself was beautiful and held me back from experiencing so many wonderful moments. Often throughout my adolescence, I would say to myself…
““I will wait once I am skinnier to go to that festival with my friends,” “I will wait once I am skinnier to fall in love”. A constant repition of this mantra “I will wait, I will wait, I will wait.”
If I could go back in time, I would have grabbed myself by those little chubby arms and instead told my younger self to buy those bloody pants I wanted, wear them to therapy, and prioritise working on my own damaging belief systems. To genuinely try and believe in my own beauty, irrespective of my body's appearance, and to recognise that it wasn't others' opinions of me that mattered, but rather my own. But believing in that monumental ideology, when the odds feel stacked against you, is easier said than done.
In the pursuit of fat acceptance, body positivity, and radical appreciation, numerous inspiring women have emerged as advocates. However, for the "everyday fat girl" like myself, embarking on this journey is one many of us aren’t prepared for. It’s important to recognise that while some can boldly run this marathon, others possess a different kind of strength, finding solace in walking the path of body positivity at their own pace. For myself, I haven’t had the courage to radically accept my fat for the majority of my life, let alone speak or advocate about it to other people. It's paramount to emphasise that what “fat girls” are or are not willing to be when it comes to their bodies is entirely their choice.
In my journey of advocacy, I didn’t wake up one day and magically change my own, often critical inner voice. I didn’t wake up and think, “I love these fat rolls on the side of my body.” I didn’t wake up and think, “Wow, I really love these pink stretch marks that line both sides of my thighs.” And I certainly didn’t think, “God, my body looks incredible today.” I was just simply tired of being the cruellest bully to the softest parts of myself. So I made a conscious decision to become the person I desperately needed during my formative years. This person would reassure me that not every day would I feel beautiful, but concealing myself would never lead to happiness. It was then that I resolved to take a bold step I had never dared to before revealing my body. As I captured this portrait of myself, I couldn't shake off the anxiety of being judged by the men I admired, fearing they might deem me unattractive. However, a dear friend of mine articulated a sentiment that resonated deeply.
If someone fails to recognise your beauty and strength for what it is, rather than what society expects it to look like, then they are not worthy of you.
With this in mind, I abandoned my habitual 45-degree stance and instead, sat down and allowed my stomach to relax. Here I am, 24 years old, curves, bumps, tubby bits and all, with one crucial message: Whether it's leisurely strolling to the shore at the beach and pausing even for a moment, wearing clothes that show your cellulite, or having beautiful daytime sex with the person you love, there's profound power in taking these small steps. Even if they seem inconsequential, one stride forward in the right direction will always surpass hiding in the shadows. So please, from one "fat girl" to another, resist the urge to suck in your stomach. Instead, inhale deeply and take those small steps toward accepting those “tubby” bits in whatever way you can.
Words by: Holly Villagra
REFERENCES:
Cooper, C. (2016) Fat Activism: A Radical Social Movement, Bristol: HammerOn Press.
Gregory (2022) What to know about hourglass syndrome, Medical News Today. Available at: https://www.medicalnewstoday.com/articles/hourglass-syndrome.
West, L. (2016) 589: Tell me I’m fat, This American Life. Available at: https://www.thisamericanlife.org/589/transcript.