Taken by the incomparable Charlie Marie
Dear Fashion Designers,
I get it. Fat girls are supposed to be ashamed of our flappy arms.
You’ve made it perfectly clear with your pretty party dresses punctuated by layers of ugly mesh on the arms and back. I understand that for some reason, you feel a sick need to pile on and accentuate the body shame you want us to feel because we like our mashed potatoes with extra butter.
I also know that some fat chicks buy into that. They demand to be covered up burqa style, so they can feel glamorous while simultaneously tricking the public into forgetting that they have stretchmarks and arm wobbles. That’s cool. It’s not my place to tell them what is right for them. I can only speak for me.
See, I’m a hot girl. I’m a hot, plus size girl. Or woman if you prefer. I’m hot for many reasons. The shape of my rear. The birthmark on my neck that invites kisses. The sexy of my strut in combat boots.
But more importantly, I’m just…hot. And your damned affordable rayon/polyester/sequinned whatevers make me sweat like I’m taking a calculus test. So please. PLEASE. Stop insulating me further with your shame coverings. Stop with the capelets and droopy illusion shoulder flaps and that horrid ashy, arm-hugging hooker mesh, cuz, you ain’t fooling anybody and neither am I.
This year, I want to go out for my birthday and eat crab legs at Outback Steakhouse and I want to wear a sparkly dress while I’m at it, and I don’t give a flying fuck if my arms flap around while I do that. I’m wondering though, if you might know something I don’t. Perhaps if people see me in my natural, shameful state, they will gag, or begin to weep and rend their clothes. Perhaps they will run screaming, as if my arms are twin Godzillas, rising from the briny deep to smash all their Bloomin’ Onions.
Godzilla has excellent self-esteem.
I can’t say what kind of mass hysteria I might cause with my naked flesh on display. But I know what kind of hysteria I feel when my clothing roasts me like rump steak, so I’m going to plead with you to remember that fat chicks like to be cute and a good many of us are out of fucks to give about how others view our bodies and want to simply be comfortable as we are. That means we want to wear bathing suits, short skirts and yes, dresses that bare our arms. So could you work on that? Pretty please? I’ll make you some mashed potatoes. With extra butter. And gravy.
A Hot Girl