Shopping in the world like a fat babe does

Babes, I’m a shopper, I am. Fat vanity is my total game and I’m not ashamed to say I give many fucks about my appearance. Like, really a lot, a lot. I want to present in the world in a certain way and performing my gender and fat femme identity is important and helps me feel able to meet the universe head on. Also, I wanna look hot.

I love clothes and adornment and I love finding cool shit to wear. And babes, I’m pretty good at it. I have to admit though that sometimes my shopping gets a little out of control. I blame feelings of fat babe fashion scarcity- y’know, when you are like ‘I better stock up on this halfway decent sparkly sweater cause you don’t know what kinda plus size nonsense they are gonna come up with next’.

I have been scarred more than once by plus size whimsy- the weird razzle dazzle that ends up on random clothes. Like somehow if you bedazzle jeans enough, or embroider enough flowers on tops, or sew enough lace onto a dress that somehow this will fool people into thinking I’m skinny. Babes, there is no known number of sequins that can distract you from my fat ass (thankfully). To be clear, I am not opposed to rhinestones, sequins, lace, or flowers. I AM opposed to using them to try to hide my fat. I am beyond over plus size design that believes if you look deeply enough into the sparkle you won’t notice my fat bod. That is some fucked up fashion logic, y’all. Screw ‘slimming’. I am not here for clothes that want me to hide in them and really, sequins should be used for the power of good, not evil.

I’m also old enough that, for much of my 20’s, plus size fashion was largely about designing clothes to keep you from being seen. Cause why would a fatty want to be noticed in the world.

Fuck. That. Noise.

But I digress.

Whimsy and invisibility have directly led to my scarcity based shopping process. For real, I have been known to buy the same outfit twice, just in case.

Babes, do not do what I do. It is a shopping flaw. It’s unaffordable and it is what sustains the fast fashion industry, so basically the worst. Besides, things have gotten better, not great, but better for a fat babe’s fashion game.

I have spent the last couple of years trying to shake the twin shadows of whimsy and scarcity while shopping. For too long they have haunted my fat babe psyche and are the reason I have two pairs of the exact same goddamned sweat pants.

Babes, welcome to my fashion thunder dome: one babe enters, one babe leaves with only what she needs. Follow me into the ruthless world of the shopping trip and come out the other side unscathed and with a super cute outfit for your trouble.

Here is my shopping game plan – designed specifically to help me avoid being decimated by consumerism and my own personal fat babe shopping demons. These 6 key shopping strategies help me avoid a panicked shopping frenzy and major buyers remorse.

1. I only shop when I’m feeling A level hot. Basically I have to feel like the whole world wants to get with me and I’m all ‘meh, I’m busy’. Happily for me I’m often A level hot.

2. I put on my current favourite outfit before leaving the house and I don’t try on anything that I feel is less cute than the outfit I’m wearing.

3. Never buy doubles. Unless you are buying bras, but otherwise, never. Babes just don’t do it. It seems like such a good idea, but that is just the other side of the scarcity coin, and then you have two pairs of the same pants for the swap pile.

4. Avoid the ‘cute enough for a fattie’ fashion. Y’know, the shit that is made out of fabric that looks kinda ok but feels like shit, or that has just a little too much business going on. These items can be sneaky and sometimes they make it into the change room, but don’t let them come home with you. No matter how much they whine about it.

5. Bring a friend. Someone who will give it to you straight and not let you make bad choices. Friends can’t make it? That is why we have smartphones. I have been known to text change room photos to other fat babes for second opinions.

6. Look beyond the whimsy. Sometimes you gotta see past the sequins. I have a stitch ripper and I have used it to make clothes that fit great, wearable. Sometimes a fat babe has to take matters into her own hands and sometimes the whimsy can be removed.

Ok babes, come top shopping with me:

 Ok. See? Pretty cute right? Casual, side pony, didn’t try too hard, but still looks slammin’.

Then I take off the coat and scarf…

That is a leopard print t-shirt dress. Top that Winners…if you dare.

K, first up:

 ok, teal. You are tricky because I love you no matter what. You could be a misshapen sack and I would have a hard time leaving you behind. Babes, honestly I probably would have bought this if my brother had not been all ‘it’s ok, but is it really worth 29.99?’. THIS IS WHY YOU NEED A FRIEND! Or a younger brother who doesn’t care that teal is like, a really hard colour to come by.

Ok on to the next. Now even though it is still in the effing deep freeze of the Canadian prairie, spring shit is starting to pop up, and I am so desperate for this ungodly season to be over that I tried this on:

  Cute right? Cute print, nice shape, can be knotted for all your crop top needs…WRONG. This is a trick top. The fabric was awful and I overlooked it for aesthetic. Do not buy clothes that feel shitty because you are wooed by a print. Fabric. Is. Everything. I don’t care what it actually is made of, just don’t buy shit that feels gross on your body. I have had to learn this lesson multiple times, don’t be like me.

Also, don’t buy clothes for a season that is not yet upon us. Especially spring fashions. Now I am aware that what I am suggesting is a seemingly impossible task for those of us who get 6 months of winter. I know babes, you just want it to be over, and a tank top in a rack full of winter wear is like seeing the first robin, but just leave it there, in nature, for the next fat babe to see.

Ok moving along.

Well, this happened:

 At first I was all ‘maybe?’. Cause y’all, I like a deep V and a horizontal stripe as much as the next babe, but then…
  There was the issue of extra side fabric. Why? What is the point? Just, no. This felt like some straight size designer got stuck making a plus line and was all ‘extra side fabric for drapiness, sure. Whatever.’. Just cause people clearly hate their jobs does not mean fat babes should have to pay. Lazy design or evil design-You decide.

Either way this top is a mess- at least on me. I will say that it is so interesting how one item that looks crap on one fat babe can look brill on the next. Our fat bodies are all so different that sometimes shit that is an epic fail on me will look sick as fuck on you. Pretty sure that extra side fabric is a universal fail, but I am prepared to be surprised.

Ok, I was totally sure I was trying on a dress next, but I was deceived by this tricky tunic:

I love the print and feel strongly that a denim vest or black cardigan and clunky boots would make this totally work appropriate.

Babes then I noticed the slits:

 on each side. A TUNIC. Now I have nothing against a tunic, I just don’t like being surprised. And this print as a tunic gives me pause. I phoned a friend. Well texted, cause I had to send pics, natch. Here is the text convo:

Me: Is this work appropriate or just ugly granny?

Me: K just looked at the pics I sent and I’m thinking ugly granny?

Gill: I feel like you look hot and would rock that dress. 

Me: It’s a tunic. 😦

Me: I feel it is too ‘tragique fat girl fashion’ for me.

Gill: I understand those concerns. 

And there you have it. When in doubt mull that shit over with someone who has your best interests at heart.

Finally, this shopping trip started to pay off:

 This is more like it. Fabric I can totally live with even if it is that cotton feeling rayon. That print is fucking awesome and this length is perfect for a mini skirt. And I like it as much as the leopard print dress I came in with. Also I can’t wait to wear it which is an excellent sign.

And so endeth my shopping trip. One cute top, singular. No doubles, no nearly there fashions. No feeling shit about my choices. All thanks to my guidelines for avoiding fat babe shopping traps.

Now fat babes, I showed you mine, show me yours? How do you avoid personal Fatshion “dont’s”, and bring home only the cutest most wearable things? How do you take risks and still manage to dodge the plus size weirdness that exists out there. Tell me all your secret strategies!

Cause babes we gotta wear something, so figuring out a way to make shopping fun and effective is a deeply useful fat babe skill.

And remember, your fat bod is fucking perfect. If clothes aren’t working don’t despair- we don’t need to take on plus size designers poor choices as a reflection of our body’s worth.  It is not a matter of your body not fitting the clothes, it is the clothes not fitting your body. Which is the clothes’ loss not yours.

Go forth and adorn. Smooches.

 This is how I wear that top, by the way. It was not cropped enough for me so a quick knot helped make it work, dontcha think?  💋

Fat Babe Armor – suit up like a fat babe does

 So I was in the locker room at the YMCA today. Now for whatever reason (like, I don’t know, cis, white privilege?) even as a fat babe, locker rooms rarely bother me. I have an exibitionist streak and am fine dropping trow on a dime. So I don’t mind whipping off my bra in front of a gaggle of teenagers or my thighs jiggling in the midst of a team of moms wrestling their kids into bathing suits. My fat bod takes up naked space on the daily, no big deal. But today. Babes, today was not an easy day for my fat babe bod or my fat babe heart.

I walked into the locker room sweaty after a run and made my way to my locker where there were two people chatting. Strangers, but they had bonded in that change room. A young person, teenager maybe and another person in their 30’s, somewhere near my own age.

Connecting on a deeply personal level over how much they hated their bodies.

Teenager: My mom wanted to buy me this winter coat in an extra-large, but i made her buy it for me in a size large – It will fit me next year.

Thirty something – Of course it will, you keep coming to the gym and you will see changes. I used to be 250lbs and in one year I had lost one hundred pounds. I’ve hit a plateau here though and I just need to lose 10 more pounds and I will be good.

Teenager – What size are you?

Thirty something – small.

Teenager: I just want to be a large…or a medium.

Babes, I withered. I felt my heart crack and i withered. My mind raced for a way to interject, to figure out the words i needed, to let that teenager know that she was fucking perfect all ready, to let that thirty something know that those last 10lbs are not going to change the friendly way she talks to everyone. How do I tell them the world may not have heart for fat babes, but I do.

But i had nothing. Zip. Zero. Zilch. I could not think of a way to interrupt the conversation, to get in the way of that rhetoric, the idea that hating ourselves is a casual conversation to have with strangers. That we always just need to lose ten more pounds. Instead I took off my sweaty clothes piece by piece and got dressed holding on to their agony and desire and feelings of not being enough. I left. I walked out, my eyes a little damp.

And isn’t that the goddamn reality of this fatphobic, capitalist, western narrative about bodies? That we just need a little more to be good. Lose a little more weight, work out a little more, have a little more will power. That little more is what is killing us, babes. A little more is asking too damn much. My fat body is not a commodity for capitalism. Not today, babes.

I know too damn well that a little more just leaves us with a whole lot less, but, sweet mother, it is damn near impossible to wedge our fat bodies into that conversation at all. At least this afternoon it was. And all through dinner. And while I was putting my own little girl to sleep after reading her a barbie princess book she had stolen from daycare. And then babes it wasn’t. It wasn’t impossible because fuck that. If I need an unmovable mass of a babe to serve as a wedge and take up some fucking room in a conversation, well hell, might as well be me.

I cried today because listening to those two babes in the locker room reminded me that most people live that way-spending so much energy and time on what could be/real talk: what never will be, that they miss out on putting their energy elsewhere: love affairs, discovery, friends, changing the world.

I had forgotten for a second that this is real life standard practice for many a fat babe. And I hate that and I felt helpless, sad and heartsick for any babe who is stuck in the wrong conversation. And I don’t like that feeling so the crying came for me. But then so did my anger and my rage and my heart and that is why I poured out this post. Because my rage fueled by heart has helped me survive.

And maybe that is the conversation we should be having in the lunch room.

So Babes, lets armor up cause if we are gonna go out there and kick it fat babe style we need some goddamn reinforcements. Now I’m not usually one for affirmational statements but when times get tough fat babes need some spirit to fall back on. First step is some emotional armor to get us all started. Something to take us away from that ‘little more’ mantra that is embedded over and over in our minds, our skin, our fat. Words that help us stick in people’s craw, that allow us to live huge in a world that vilifies big.


 A Fat Babe’s Armored Affirmations for Living Life Like a Bad Ass Bitch

  1. The world we live in is a bag of dicks, but we don’t have to suck. You feel me? We can be better than we have been taught. We can love with an open heart and we can choose to turn that love inward before we let it pour out.
  2. Take care of each other. We live in a world that thinks there is such a thing as being ‘too nice’. THAT IS NOT A THING. Love the fat babes around you.Tell them that their strength makes you stronger. That together we are both better and fatter.
  3. Just cause you are the bomb doesn’t mean you always have to feel that way. Give yourself permission to be pissed off, upset, angry. We live in a world where shit talking our bodies is the accepted way to bond in the lunch room. If that isn’t a reason to flip a table, I don’t know what is (and if your version of flipping a table is putting on sweats and calling in sick then so be it).
  4. Love what you put in your body. Whether it is a big mac, kale, or a danish in the gym parking lot (mmmmm parking lot danish), it is ok. You do not owe anyone an explanation for how you nourish your self. If you want to carb load before watching TV that is fan fucking tastic – you don’t need to apologize to a goddamn soul.
  5. Your body has helped you survive the harshness of the world you live in. Your strong fat bod has held you when you were hurt, scared, unsafe, anxious, sad. Honour your body for keeping you alive, for giving you exactly what you needed in that moment.
  6. You are deserving of love and joy and deep connection. Your body deserves to be touched in a way that makes you feel alive and desired – by others and by you. Your fat body deserves some love, yall.
  7. Some days we just don’t feel it. That is not because we are fat, it is because we are alive. Some days our outfits don’t work, or things don’t look right. Those days are hard. It’s ok to curl into yourselves. Do what you need to do to get through it.
  8. Just cause the world we live in does not always hold us kindly doesn’t mean we can’t hold ourselves in kindness. Can you hold space to care for yourself? Be gentle with that body of yours. Tell yourself that’s what fat babes deserve. Cause it is.
  9. You are not too much. That is some fucked up shit that people say to fat babes and it plays on some deep level insecurities around being big in a world that constantly wants us smaller. Asking for what we want is not too much. Setting boundaries about what kind of body talk you will tolerate is not too much. Fuck ‘too much’.
  10. You don’t have to be any way besides the way you are. You are enough.

So, let’s crack this conversation open and blow it to pieces like the sexy hot babes we are. Everyone else can thank us later.


Beth Ditto spring 2016: fashion like a fat babe does.

Babes. Beth Ditto has come along way from the Granville dive bar show she did when I saw her in all her sweaty fat bitch glory; schooling fat bashing hecklers by getting more naked way back in 2002, van-city. We were all messier fat queers then. We may have grown up a little, but that fierce as hell fat babe attitude still speaks to me in a really real way.  And those hecklers from back then? Well they can now eat it, cause Beth Ditto is famous as fuck-all thanks to her fat, naked, fuck you, punk rock attitude. Oh and also, now she is making clothes I covet as well.

This is not the first time that Ditto has done clothes (remember that Evans collection a million years ago?). It is the first time she has been able to do whatever the fuck she wants and the results are pretty freaking boss, if miles out of my price range. I figured if I have to dream of the day when 400$ for a dress for everyday wear is within my price point then the rest of you babes can join me. Also, I am just happy for a collection that doesn’t bedazzle my ass or try to force me into a statement tee with another goddamn cupcake on it. Cause y’all cupcakes are for eating not wearing, amiright?

This collection is an unapologetic and body-posi collection that breathes life into an otherwise tedious and honestly kinda boring plus-size fashion world (i mean there are some notable exceptions, but I will save those for another day). The whole goddamn thing is sick as fuck but here are my top faves from the collection:
modern love jumpsuit times squares – beth ditto 2016

Babes, THAT IS A JUMPSUIT!!! Ok, i am a sucker for all of the jumpsuits – I have never met one I didn’t like, but this one is so goddamn good – the print, the shape, the deep V. There are even pockets for chrissakes. There is nothing that i don’t like about this thing – except that at 395$ it may never find its way onto my fat bod. So good though, right?

Or this goddamn piece of brilliance:
summerweight legging – eat my makeup


I can’t even believe a bodycon look in such a fierce print exists in the fatosphere. I feel like these tights exceed every expectation that I have in a legging. And there is a goddamn matching top. Head to toe bold print – I mean this thing is basically me as a fabric. And after that 400$ dress 115$ seems like a bargain, albeit one I will never have.

Here is the top:

I am not even remotely about the turtleneck and I still like this dress. The draping/pleating, whatever that is is so stinking stylish.

Or this casual Friday ensemble:

I like an oversize top with a skinny jean as much as the next fat babe, and this top does not disappoint. I mean this print and the cut of this tee looks so damn good.

And finally, bubble dresses make an appearance in this collection. And who the fuck doesn’t love a good bubble dress? No one. That’s who. Here’s one in black, but if i’m being honest I would buy every other one in the collection first – I mean in the age old battle of prints versus black I think it is pretty clear who I am rooting for.

Now I know the styling on this collection is kick ass but I have all of the faith that this collection is as good in person as it is on the models and Beth herself – Tragically I will never know for sure.

I mean, babes, I would literally do some sketchy motherfucking shit to get my hands on a 50% off coupon code, but my guess is that is about as likely as getting fast fat fashion to stop making shit in that weird slippery micro-fibre. So I will stick to my original plan of obsessively going back to the website – and looking at the hot babes in clothes that are meant to kick some ass and take no prisoners. It is as rock and roll as i am going to get from my computer screen. That is to say, just rock and roll enough.


Ima just say a little prayer to the fat babe fashion gods and hope that some goddamn magic will come my way and wrap these thick thighs in some goddamn printed lycra from the punk rock queen herself. Smooches, babes and may all your fashion dreams come true.



Gay curling like a fat babe does

Ok babes, things are about to get prairie as fuck. Cause y’all I just spent the weekend at the Bison Cup; curling like the righteous fat babe athlete that I am. For those in the know the Bison Cup is the gayest goddamn bonspiel on the prairie. The fruitiest and most talented of gay curlers gather from across the country to curl and get laid. With varrying degrees of success on both counts. And once a year I dust off the old broom and grace the gay curling league with my fat queer presence. And my bang on sportsing fashion sense. Because what I lack in skill I make up for in hotness, and really isn’t that what athleticism is all about?

So, as a ‘naturally athletic’ and fabulous fat babe I can tell you that there is no other fattie at this bonspiel throwing rocks in a leopard print mini skirt. That is some next level sportsing, babes.

Now before we go on i need to tell all of you about the game of curling. Don’t be deceived by the fact that you can order beer down to the rink while playing or the fact that there are tiny ashtrays in the benches at either end of the ice- those things are simply a distraction from the dirty truth of the matter. This game is motherfucking hard. The fact is whether you are drunk and chain smoking or not, you have to lunge like way more than once, and you are on ice, and shit is really slippery.

And actually, I have maybe curled a handful of times in my whole life. Whatever.
I started at the bonspiel in 2015. Miy team was called Maggie’s First Time. Here we are last year:

 just when you think gay curling can’t get any gayer- it totally fucking does.

My team thinks I have now played enough times that next year we can be Maggie’s Been Around. Which I certainly have.

So although I am certain that all you fat babes want in on the minutia of every single point we made in the whole tournament- the truth is I am still pretty unclear about how one actually scores a point, so instead you are just gonna get game highlights and by highlights I mean pictures of what I am wearing.

Here we go:

  Gay curling looks a lot like regular curling except with drag queens and teams that dress up every year (this year ‘Friends of Dorothy’ and ‘the Golden Girls’ were the stand out teams for costumes- ‘Sophia’ curled with a tiny silver purse around his wrist all weekend which is a difficult task even for the most athletic of babes).
Friday I met up with my team after work-they had already curled once that morning and won so they were feeling pretty good and I was looking pretty good so we were basically ready.

We played a team called ‘mamas boys’ who were from Toronto and Winnipeg. The only way Kevin could get his mom to agree to play was if they let her skip- hence the name. She was a two time provincial champ so the Toronto gays were more than happy to have her top them all over the ice. And in turn they crushed us thoroughly. Now here is the most charming thing about curling- whoever wins buys the losing team a round of drinks. Basically even if you lose you win. So we spent the rest of the night watching curling and hanging out with this charming team. Here’s me wearing the most fetching little beer jacket:

Next day we played at 830am. Fortified with Macdonalds breakfast we were ready.
 This is me in my sportsing dress and shades (cause everything was too bright).

This is my full curling ensemble complete with yellow headband and curling shoes.

I need to pause for a moment and encourage all of you to just look at that curling rink bathroom keeping it classy with a wall of mirror and a vase of silk flowers. It’s the prairie and there is no irony at the curling rink. This shit is for real.

Ok, the shoes.  I am overjoyed at having those black curling shoes cause I have been ruling the rink over the past year in these beauties:

Those are some 1970’s curling shoes that my skip bought at a garage sale for two bucks. #prairiebargain

Along with this beauty:

Known as ‘the hammer’ this broom and those white shoes have been my curling gear for the past year. This year my fat babe vanity got the better of me and I retired the shoes. To be clear, curling fashion is basically an oxymoron but at least I now look less like a throwback to a bygone era, y’know?

We played a couple of games on Saturday and we almost won one of em! And i managed to keep both of my rocks in play on one end! So proud.

As a ‘natural athlete’, my sportsmanship is exceptional so we had a ton of fun with our opponents anyways.

Here is me being serious about curling:

 oh and did I mention I use this little slider cause otherwise I can’t get up on the ice? Fat babe adaptation for the win. So sportsy.

Then we were done for the day. One Epsom bath later it was time to get ready for the banquet. Here is what I ended up with:

   Why yes that is a green sparkly crop top with my leopard pants and DKNY jacket. My eyes may be wild and, shall we say, eccentric, but my curling game is on fleek, as the kids say.
Here are some banquet shots:

  Mike is the second and he wears his kilt curling. This gives me life.

  My skip looks fab, but all she cares about is that this dress has pockets. Her priorities may be off, but she is soaring to epic fat babe status here.

Rob is our third, so handsome in his floral shirt and neck scarf.

We may have lost at curling, but we won at babeliness.

All in all the weekend was most definitely a gay old time. Homo curling, who knew it was a thing, and who knew all they needed was a fat babe curling in mini skirts to bring out the natural athlete in all of us.


healthcare providing like a fat babe does


Don’t let the nurse-y side eye get you down.

Babes. I have a confession. I try not to tell people unless they already know me and think i’m not the actual worst. I’m four posts in to this blog so I’m thinking if you are still with me that you are ready. Here it is: I am a health care provider, a nurse to be specific. A fat one, but still. And on behalf of healthcare providers I would like to offer you fat babes my sincerest apologies for our dickish behaviour towards fat. We, as a group, are deeply uninformed, thoroughly incompetent, and essentially body phobic assholes. Its not you, it is so totally us.

We don’t read the articles about health(if you want that) at any size, we don’t see the journal articles about how fat people live longer, we have never heard of the ‘obesity paradox’, we don’t go out of our way to learn about how to make space for fat bodies in healthcare. And for this i am deeply sorry.

We consume the same epic bullshit media as the rest of the world and it makes us bad at our jobs. You know what i mean, yeah? Oprah talking about bread and weight watchers in the same breath, vogue cosmo marie claire who do a ‘size issue’ once a year (as if that gets them off the hook for the other 11 months), celebrity magazines dedicated to dissecting celebrity bodies (too thin, too fat, what not), and shame-y public health campaigns that, for some reason, love to use exactly no evidence for their social marketing. Healthcare providers have been trained in the same way that  all of us have – to hate our bodies and to believe that changing our physical appearance is the answer to living life to the fullest (Fun Fact: it’s not).

Then your friendly wannabe docs and nurses et al go to healthcare school. In the beginning it’s ok. We learn that there is no magic bullet in healthcare, that healing is complex. So far so good.

Unfortunately for fat babes everywhere, eventually shit gets really real in healthcare school and we learn the most messed up logic fail in medicine:

That ‘lifestyle changes’ are the solution to it all- wait, what? Especially for fatties – oh hell no.

Suddenly, despite that earlier training about how there is no magic bullet in healthcare, we are taught that, for fat people, there is and that bullet is a diet. It is this moment where everything goes sideways and all of a sudden losing 20 pounds will cure cancer.

And so this begins our training in talking out of both sides of our mouths; learning to say things like ‘dieting doesn’t work’ at the same time as we tell you that ‘losing ten pounds will cure whatever ails you’. It is nonsensical at best, and, actually, harmful at worst. Yay.

We are totally and hopelessly fucked up when it comes to taking care of fat babes.

I am not going to get into it with anyone about whether losing weight is or isn’t good for you – perhaps another blog I will just post an epic list of journal articles backing up my shit, but not today. BECAUSE THE POINT IS MOOT. The fact is that all of this conditioning and weird health care training has lead healthcare providers to believe that we get to have an opinion about someone else’s body. The straight up truth is: no, we fucking don’t.

We don’t need to weigh you at every check up to do our jobs, we don’t need to lecture you about your food choices, we certainly don’t need to give you gowns that barely cover your hot asses, and we definitely don’t need to prescribe weight loss as a cure all. Doing these things is not healing, it is not sound medicine, and it is not trauma informed. It is about punishing you for being a hot fat babe that believes you have a right to be cared for by the healthcare system (which you completely do, FYI). Ima say it again to be totally clear: none of this stuff is about true healing nor is it about health. It is about being a massive douchebag.

You have the right to come and see us with a flu, or a sexually transmitted infection, or a broken bone without hearing about how your body needs to change. You have the right to talk about post partum depression without being told to lose weight. Hell, you have the right to see us about high blood pressure, diabetes, and sore backs (you know ‘fat people problems’) without us talking to you about how your body needs to change. Unsolicited advice, lectures and shame are not acceptable healthcare interventions nor are they effective.

And yet. And yet.

So many fat babes see their healthcare providers with dread in their hearts. Or they don’t go at all. We are denied healthcare(however subtly) because of how healthcare providers talk to us, or we get healthcare that doesn’t actually get at the heart of healing. And we internalize it – we blame our fat, or our lack of strength, our confidence or our motivation. We turn it inwards instead of looking at why we feel these ways.

So, i would like to say a few things as a healthcare provider. The poor care and cruelty we display in serving fat people is not your fault. Your dread and fear and avoidance are brilliant goddamn survival strategies. You have adapted to shaming and problematic healthcare in the most reasonable and honest way. You are protecting yourself in the best way that you can from a system that is far from kind. Fat babes deserve better. We deserve healthcare providers that honour how our bodies have gotten us this far, that see that fat babes are the strongest survivors, and that our fat bodies have carried us through life, have created life, have survived trauma, and have made us the fierce hot babes that we are.

I know that most of us don’t get that kind of care. I know because I don’t get it either. So, fat babes, survive healthcare providers, survive us however you have to: by stepping on that scale or by refusing to, by demanding better care from your provider or by quietly searching for someone new. However you navigate your way among us is the right way. Your glorious bodies are not any of our business unless you want them to be.

You are beautiful and you are fine. Your soft bellies and strong thighs are getting you through this world, not us.



That tank top says ‘blah blah blah blah’. Im not saying i wear it to the doctor’s, and im not saying i dont. 😉

Checking privilege like a fat babe does

So wanted to lay down some thoughts before I get too far into this blog. I mean mostly I wanna talk about clothes and bargains and righteous survival, but I want to also make sure that we can all be aware that the way I get to do that is because of a fuckton of privilege.

Here’s the bare ass truth of the matter: as a white, middle class, cis person navigating the world, shit is just not that hard. And it’s not hard cause the world is made for me and the systems in it tend to work pretty good for me. Sure I’m queer as all hell, have a hearty dose of crazy , and I’m obvi straight up fat, but at the end of the day my privilege means even the hardest most difficult days are just a little easier than those of the fat babes I love who are navigating the world without cis and white privilege(among others).

Even just a simple thing like wearing whatever the hell I want to work is informed by my white and cis privilege. Fashion and who gets to wear what and what that ‘signifies’ is not a thing I have to think about, and that babes is straight up privilege. I literally just had a conversation with a friend about how to make a ‘sluts with guts’ crop top business casual. If that isn’t made possible by white and cis privilege I don’t know what is. Now I’m not saying days can’t be hard- some days the work I do means that I come home and just cry, and I am eternally irritated that the world keeps fighting a drug war that should just not be a thing, and I’m certainly pissy about the fact that my kid’s safety is compromised just cause she is a girl in the world.

All I’m saying is ‘yo! I have privilege and that’s a thing I need to be aware of’, even as a totally inspirational blogess, but I digress.

So if any of you reading this blog(ever) is thinking ‘whoa that was a sketchy thing to write’ AND you have the spoons to gift me with frank and honest feedback about it I will promise gratitude and checking my shit and doing everything I can to address and change my ways to make things safer for all fat babes.

And even more than awareness is action. Maybe consider this post a fat babe call to arms, a challenge to all the privileged fat babes to use that shit for the powers of good. You don’t have to change the world- just a smidge of the one you roll in. Know a trans fat babe who takes heat shopping at the mall? Go with them and back them the hell up!  Got some time and wheels? Give a ride to an Indigenous babe who, in my town, can’t be sure she will get a safe taxi ride(search ‘Ikwe: women helping women safe ride’ on Facebook) and also What.The.Actual.Fuck. Basically let’s just show the hell up for each other. And babes if you are rolling in privilege and notice some other privileged person being sketchy and brutal let’s actually talk about it and address it and try to do what we can to show some fat babe solidarity and minimize the microagressions that fat babes have to deal with on the daily. The world is hard enough so let’s think about where we hold privilege and where we don’t and try to hold each other up.

Cause at the end of the day the more of us wearing sluts with guts crop tops to work the better. Smooches.

 one of my fat babe besties rocking the ‘sluts with guts’ crop top like she can.

So babes I’m a gym rat. I go nearly everyday. I elliptical mostly, but I also try to do a circuit once a week and I mix it up with the stationary bike. Surprise, I’m still fat-the fattest I have ever been. Can we all take a moment to let the fact that a solid fat babe like me goes to the gym everyday sink in.

Now, if there was ever a place a fat babe needs armour it is at the gym which is like a honing beacon for body dysmorphic dieters- I just don’t have the heart to tell them that exercise doesn’t make you thin. Not begrudging the skinnies their hangout- it’s cool you are welcome in my gym. Just stop looking surprised to see me here. And I’m not fucking leaving so get into my sweaty fat face already. I stake my ground at the gym because y’all we have a right to be here (if we want) and also because it has become a place that makes me feel really good. 45 minutes out of the day that are gloriously mine and where people aren’t all wanting a piece of me. Fat babes need breaks from the world too and for me I have randomly found it in the gym. Weird.

I love the gym for the following reasons:

1. It keeps my crazy at bay. My near daily gym regimen over the past year has been the single greatest intervention for managing my anxiety-and I have tried a lot of stuff.

2. There is cable tv at the gym. I am obsessed with television to the point where I can’t have it in my home or I would never do anything else. So learning that I can watch reruns of Modern Family (which I know is problematic in nearly every way possible, but hey still funny so what evs) while working out was a goddamn revelation.

3. I have a semi legitimate reason to buy active wear. And I only need semi legitimacy to buy clothes. Let me show you what has me all excited these days:


On the  model.
 On me: This slouchy top makes me feel like I’m in Fame. I may break into dance at.any.moment.

Also this:

 Those are turquoise and black stripes.Reversible. Here is the pattern on the other side:

 Apparently it’s a bra, but I’m pretty sure it’s a top. Additionelle, we can agree to disagree.

Anyhow, I got these after getting a gajillion gift certificates after buying a winter coat. The lace top (from a previous post), two of these bra things, and the peach shirt cost me 50 bucks total. All these things were regular price so in my opinion overpriced. I don’t believe you should ever pay full price for clothes and additionelle is no exception. Holding out for the buy one get two free or at least a 40%off sale is the way to go.

K, babes a quick caveat: I spent the bulk of this year wearing the same pair of leopard print leggings and tank top to the gym every damn day. And I only just replaced my old hospital nurse runners with a pair that don’t have blood and superbugs all over em. You don’t need activewear to be active- I am just a ridiculous clothes horse who will jump on any excuse to buy shit I don’t need. And well, this is a shameless fashion blog so y’know, grain of salt and all that.

Anyways fat babes, let’s keep taking up space and if you wanna come to my gym with me, I’m down for that, just don’t interrupt me during Ellen.

Getting through winter like a fat babe does

So babes, as most of you prairie people know this is the time of year where winter shit gets really real. The first lovely snow of the season is a distant memory, it is too cold to be outside, and it feels like winter should be over when we still have another half to go. The snow is no longer a sparkly crystal wonderland-winter is now a shit storm of dirty snow and grey skies and you can tell we have given up on life because, virtually at the same time, we have collectively stopped shoveling the walk cause really, what’s the point. And that babes is why it is super important to do whatever the fuck it takes to get you through the next few months. For me it is taking lots of pictures of myself in summer clothes and dreaming of bathing suits and beaches. It is also a time where I spend money I don’t have on spring fashions that are hot but not the most practical. So welcome to my retail therapy clusterfuck- wherein you get to watch yours truly talk about the clothes I’m excited about in an attempt to make it to spring.

So first things first: I totally bought the shit out of this top yesterday:

 It’s from additionelle and this is what it looks like on their model. So wholesome right? I looked a little closer and I’m thinking I could work that into the Maggie b spring rotation. Here is what it looks like on me:

 I’m super excited about it cause I think that it will look slammin with a bra and mini skirt. It is pretty boxy and fully cotton which I am really here for. My guess is I will wreck it within the first 5 wears, but who cares cause it’s cold and winter and I look hot. And at the end of the day if a hot fat babe can’t warm up winter who the heck can? Smooches

#fatbabe #plussizeblogger #additionelle