The Plumpy Paradox – a Boon, a Curse, or Both
Let’s just put it out there – being on the plumpy side comes with its own set of… let’s call them unique privileges. Not like front-of-the-line privileges or free-airline-upgrade privileges. More like society-is-silently-judging-you-but-ironically-also-can’t-look-away kind of privileges.
We, the Plumpy People, don’t always play by society’s tiny little rules – partly because we weren’t invited to play in the first place. And honestly? That’s kind of freeing. When you’re already branded with a “flaw” big enough to have its own gravitational pull, you sort of stop trying to fit into everyone else’s boxes. You learn early on that the mold was never shaped with you in mind – so why not go off and make your own damn mold?
There’s a weird kind of liberty that comes with being seen as the “outsider” – it unhooks you from the exhausting game of people-pleasing. The freedom to say no, to show up exactly how you are, to wear what you want, to not fake it for anyone. You’re already written off by so many people, it kind of gives you room to do whatever the hell you want. You’re not stuck trying to meet some perfect image, because you already missed it in their eyes. You’re automatically the outsider, so there’s no pressure to play by their rules. Expectations? Those were never designed for us. Nobody expects the fat girl to be the fastest, the most stylish, the most articulate, the boldest voice in the room – and so, when you are those things? The impact doubles. They expect “less,” so everything you bring becomes “more.” But ironically, they still don’t see it.
You could be leading a team, writing novels, loving deeply, radiating warmth like a space heater with feelings – but all some people will ever see is the body. The Shape. The Curse. It’s like shouting through a curtain made of meat, hoping someone will catch the echo of who you really are.
You know what I’m tired of hearing?
“You can’t even lose weight… so how can you be good at anything else?”
Excuse me? Since when did body size become the benchmark for all competence?
By that logic, every person wearing glasses has a defect, right? So what – now we start questioning everything they see? Maybe accuse them of being blind? “Oh, you wear contacts? Better not trust your judgment on anything!”
Sounds ridiculous, doesn’t it?
Or baldness. Some of the sexiest, smartest, most powerful people on earth are bald – by choice or by nature. Would we say they’re defective? Would we say their thoughts are any less valid because their hair didn’t make the cut?
This is where people get it all wrong.
A flaw – if we even want to call it that – is just one part of a person. It’s not an all-access pass to assume the rest of them is flawed, too. One thing not working the way society expects doesn’t give anyone the right to slap a “lesser-than” sticker on your whole identity.
Where do we draw the line?
Some people have anxiety – are they suddenly incapable of joy?
Some people stutter – does that make their words less true?
Some people have scars – do we question their strength?
No. We don’t. Or at least we shouldn’t.
And yet – with weight?
People see someone who’s fat, or bigger than what the world likes to promote in glossy ads, and suddenly it’s open season.
Forget your degrees, forget your work ethic, your creativity, your loyalty, your kindness – nah. You’re fat. So now, your value is under review.
It’s terrifying, honestly.
How much internal loathing does someone need to carry, to not be able to see anything else in a person beyond what’s on the outside?
You know what I think?
It’s not our defect. It’s theirs.
I’m starting to believe some people have a literal phobia of people who don’t fit the health-and-aesthetic fantasy they’ve built in their heads. It’s like they can’t process someone being confident, smart, or worthy if they don’t look a certain way. Their fear of “unhealthy-looking” bodies is so intense it blinds them – not us – them.
That’s not a reflection on us. That’s a deep, sick fear they carry. And honestly?
It’s not our job to fix that.
But here’s what I remind myself: they can judge the outside all they want. Go ahead. That part’s on display anyway. But the inside? That’s mine. That’s where I live. That’s where I’ve done the real work – the late-night pep talks, the rebuilding, the “let me try again” moments. That’s where I shine. And no one gets to dull that just because they’re stuck on appearances.
Because while the world is distracted by your so-called “flaw,” you’ve had time to build an interior so rich and complex it would make a Swiss watch feel insecure. You don’t owe anyone a flat stomach or a flattering angle. What you do owe – to yourself – is to protect that inner gold like it’s sacred. Because it is. And it glows brighter than any calorie count or unsolicited gym advice could ever dim.
However, this journey is not for the faint-hearted. Sometimes you will feel alone standing and this isn’t ideal, but it is better than being swallowed up in a toxic culture that doesn’t respect boundaries and inner-worth.
No matter how much you work on yourself – emotionally, mentally, spiritually, glow-up-from-the-inside kind of stuff – some people still can’t look past your body. They don’t see the gold you’ve built inside.
That hurts.
And when it hurts – and trust me, it does – it hurts with the weight of a thousand metaphors. Because yes, the bigger you are, the harder you fall. And somehow, the smaller you feel on the inside when it happens. You start wondering if all that inner strength you’ve built – that fortress of kindness and resilience and sarcasm and sheer willpower – if any of it is enough to keep the cracks from forming. Because they do. And if you don’t patch them up fast, they seep. Into the core. Into your shine.
But now I know to watch for them. I know to patch them, take care of them, not let the world’s noise get into the core.
The next time you walk into that interview, remember your body is not your resume. It’s not a summary of your value. It’s not the full story – it’s just the cover. Next time you walk into that coffee shop to meet friends, remember you’re not here to shrink, to apologize, to edit yourself for their comfort. You’re here to take up space – unapologetically, beautifully, fully. The next time you meet your crush or hold your husband or boyfriend’s hand, remember your softness doesn’t cancel your strength. Your curves don’t dim your brilliance. And everytime you get hurt and someone breaks your heart and trust, don’t let them convince you that your body is the biggest thing about you.
You are more than enough. You always were. They just didn’t look deep enough to see it.
So yes, being plumpy is a paradox. A curse, a joke, a whisper behind your back at weddings. But it’s also a secret weapon. A filter. A force field. You get to walk through life knowing that anyone who actually sees you – truly sees you – had to break through their own bias first.
And that kind of person? That’s someone worth knowing.
But first, don’t forget to meet yourself.
If you know anyone who cherishes you and doesn’t make you feel judged, then share this with them and let them know you feel seen.