I went pants shopping today for, like, five hours at every store in a 10 mile radius of my house that sold a size 18. Not a single pair fit. There were 16’s falling off and 18’s I couldn’t button. 22’s that were cutting off circulation to my calves, and 2 pairs of 20’s from the same store, same brand, same cut, in different colors, that had a difference greater than 2 inches at the waist. The one pair of jeans that fit my butt, my waist, my calves, and weren’t made of tissue paper were, approximately, eight feet too short.
Days like today make me want to light people on fire. I just fucking want a pair of fucking pants. It’s so hard to remember that IT IS NOT MY BODY THAT IS FUCKED UP. It is the manufacturers and the designers who are the fucked up.
I’m not giving you attention by publishing your ask because you’re a poisonous waste of space but I’m still going to address your nonsense because I’m terrible at the internet like that.
- Why the fuck should I change my perfectly valid behavior because other people have predatory and problematic consumption habits? Like… how am I responsible for that misbehavior?
- ON WHAT GODDAMNED PLANET should I not address an individual’s aggression when it is directed at me and contributes to narratives about fat bodies, desire, and consent that are damaging to EVERYONE, in addition to it making me feel very unsafe?
Those questions are rhetorical. This is not actually a discussion.