I was going to write this differently, but I think this is better. Easier for where I am mentally right now. Also, TRIGGER WARNING for anyone who is sensitive to reading about clothing sizes.
Basics
First the basics. I’m 5’4”, wear a size 12-14 US, and have a BMI just over 30. According to my BMI, I’m fat. According to my height and clothing size, I’m average. I think that’s probably why I was, at first, hesitant to become involved in FA. Even though I meet the medical definition of fat, most people (with the exception of those who actively want to make me feel bad about myself) don’t seem to read me as a fat person. There are certain stereotypical fat experiences from which I have, luckily, been exempt. I’ve never been called fat to my face. I’ve never had anyone moo at me or call me a cow while out being active. I was never bullied at any point during my educational career. No one has ever told me that I have “such a pretty face” or that no man would want me unless I lost weight.
And yet my mother used to question every food choice I made. As recently as two months ago (and remember, I’m in my mid to late twenties now) she asked me if I was “sure I wanted that second helping” at dinner. (Well, being angry kind of kills my appetite, so no, I guess I don’t want it anymore.) At my thinnest, I was still subject to body policing. It’s a scary and disturbing part of western (particularly USian) culture. I remember once sitting in an airport, reading a trashy magazine while waiting to board my flight home for a holiday. The article I was reading was on the opposite page from an advertisement for a weight loss drug. I glanced up to find the man sitting next to me trying to get my attention. He caught my eye and pointed to the ad and then pointed at my belly. I don’t think he spoke English, but the language barrier wasn’t going to stop him from telling me that I was too fat and should take untested, potentially dangerous drugs in order to look how he thought I should. I gave him a dirty look and went back to reading. But inside, my heart was racing. I was ashamed.
My parents cheered me on when I went on what was essentially a starvation diet in college and lost 25 lbs. They were so proud when I fit into a size 6 and bought a bikini! But I wasn’t quite there yet. No, I had another 10-15 lbs. to lose. And then it stopped working. Everything I’d done to lose weight, starting when I was 14, stopped working. No matter how closely I followed the Weight Watchers points system, no matter how carefully I counted calories, the weight wouldn’t come off. By that time, I’d graduated college (at the same weight I was when I started and with quite a bit of fluctuation in between) and was working at my first job. Eventually, I moved back to my home state and started graduate school. My weight had been stable, though higher than I wanted, for the past year or so. And then suddenly it started going up again. And we couldn’t figure out why.
I fought it, but there didn’t seem to be much I could do. I had a gym membership and used it regularly. I wasn’t eating any differently than I had before. My doctor ran tests for anything that might be causing the weight gain and everything came back normal aside from a mild case of hypoglycemia. I have an average metabolism – not fast, but not noticeably slow. I was doing everything “right” and still gaining weight. The doctor sent me to a nutritionist, who agreed that my eating habits seemed normal and healthy. I was lucky: I had a doctor who was more concerned with my overall health than the number on the scale and a nutritionist who was more concerned with making sure I was eating a healthy, nutritious diet than finding a way for me to lose weight. Neither of them chastised me or shamed me for my body or my eating. They both believed me when I talked about what I eat and how I stay active. I was never called a liar or told that I just wasn’t trying hard enough. I realize how incredibly lucky I was to have both of these professionals in my life at that time.
So relatively quickly, I went from a kind of thin adult to a kind of fat adult. I still get catcalled occasionally, but the context (and city) is different. It’s harder to get the attention of the bartender when I go out for drinks. They’re all subtle differences, things that the perpetrators probably aren’t even doing consciously, but they are there. And I can’t shop for clothing as easily as I could when I was thinner.
Clothing and Style
Clothing size may seem like a shallow thing to use as a barometer for defining a category, but, broadly speaking, inbetweenies have an experience that is vastly different from both thinner and fatter people. Many, if not most, of us are either in the “overweight” or “obese” BMI categories, which means we’ll probably have to face lectures and dismissal from health professionals. I was lucky with my doctor and nutritionist in graduate school, but when I was younger, I had doctors who blamed lifelong health issues – problems I’d had since I was a very thin child – on my weight. I had a doctor’s note to sign up for Weight Watchers at age 14, despite being just barely “overweight” based on my BMI, and despite the fact that I was still growing.
So, while many inbetweenies experience some of the same fat shaming that larger fatties deal with, many of us are not fully plus sized in terms of clothing. My style aesthetic is best described as “romantic preppy.” I love lace, nipped waists, riding boots, and belted cardigans. Show me a Grecian draped top or a peplum sweater and I’m totally in love. But…and you know there has to be one…it has become increasingly difficult to find clothing that both fits and expresses my individual style. And flatters, by which I do not mean “makes me look thinner,” but rather “does not cling oddly to parts of my body and change my proportions in ways I do not like.” I have a list of stores I shop at, with varying amounts of success:
On the “straight size” end of the spectrum are Urban Outfitters and Anthropologie,* which are both very hit or miss. I can fit into jeans from UO, but not skirts, and only blousy or stretchy tops. Anthro rarely carries pants in my size, but I’ve had reasonably good luck with skirts, dresses, and tops. That is, when I can afford to shop there. Mod Cloth, which I love aesthetically, rarely has anything in “extended sizes” and when they do, it’s either bathing suits that run too big for me or ‘50s style dresses that look far too costumey on my figure. H&M used to be one of my favorites for somewhat affordable, cute clothing, but they run small and now don’t carry anything above a US size 12 in the stores I’ve been to recently, so apparently they’ve decided that they don’t value me (or other people my size) as customers. It’s too bad, because I’m pretty average sized. And yes, H&M does have some plus sizes, but only on their website, in very limited styles, and without shipping to the US. That doesn’t seem particularly accessible to me.
Of the “plus size” retailers I know of, City Chic, which is generally not my style, carries a size 14 that is too large for me in the waist. Evans seems to run smaller, so they do carry clothing in my size, but they are not really my aesthetic, either. I’ve gotten clothing I like at Torrid and Forever21+ (formerly Faith21), but those brands tend to be aimed at a younger demographic and only occasionally have clothing that I really love. Avenue and Lane Bryant are the two US plus size retailers I’ve run into and, even though I should technically be able to fit into the 14s they carry, what I’ve seen in stores is that things run a bit big. The other problem I’ve noticed with plus sizes on my body is that they are often cut wrong. I remember reading somewhere that many designers feel that larger bodies change in terms of proportions – the reason you can’t just size up a 2 to a 22 and have the piece fit most people properly. I’ve noticed that there tends to be a smaller difference between the waist and hip measurements on the size charts for plus size retailers and that doesn’t work on my body.
Then there are the few companies that straddle “straight” and “plus” sizes or carry clothing into the smaller end of what is typically considered “plus.” I’m currently waiting on an order from Dorothy Perkins, which carries most items up to about a size 18 US, but they’re in the UK, so shipping can get costly, and prices, converted from pounds, are not cheap. eShakti advertises clothing up to a size 26W and will, I believe, do custom orders in larger sizes for an additional $7.50. But they can also be expensive and the sizing seems to be inconsistent – I know I’m not the only person who, even on a custom order, found the finished product to be measured or proportioned incorrectly. And Asos is a problem all on its own: Asos Curve, their plus size line, starts a size too big for me, but their “regular” line of clothing very rarely comes in my size. My body does not exist in that store.
So that’s the deal with clothing. Everything is hit or miss, not just in terms of fit, but in terms of individual retailers, both “straight” and “plus” sized, simply carrying items in my size. It’s particularly difficult to develop a personal style when you can’t find clothing you like in your size. And I haven’t even talked about the issue of boots. I won’t go into it at length, because I’m sure that many fatties and non-fatties alike understand the frustration of having a calf that measures more than 15 inches around. Knee high boots are few and far between. They’re often measured incorrectly and don’t fit, despite the given measurements saying they should. And an unfortunate number of brands seem to think that a 15.5 inch calf is gigantic.
*Yes, I know that there are ethical concerns about both stores, which are owned by the same parent company, but given my limited shopping options, I have to make some concessions.
Why does any of this matter?
It probably sounds as though I’ve been rambling for about three pages (and I suppose I have, since I’m drafting this entry in Microsoft Word and that’s about how long it is, single spaced), but everything I’ve written matters. It all shapes how I see my body, which is not quite fat and not quite thin. I have the kind of body that has become the topic of discussion in FA spaces because fatter people get concerned that when smaller fats or inbetweenies are highly visible in spaces intended for larger fats, those larger bodies are erased. They’re right. Everyone needs a safe space. It would not be appropriate for me to submit a picture to Death Fatties because I’m not included in that group. But I need a safe space, too. I need a space where I see bodies like mine doing fun things and wearing awesome outfits. I need to see people like me as normal and beautiful.
This entire post came about because I commented that someone who wears a US size six is not an inbetweenie and was told that I was shaming that person for saying so. I was called hostile. I cannot apologize for what I said, though, because being an inbetweenie is my safe space. I cannot speak for all people of any size, but many of my close friends wear around a US size 6. Some of them are happy with their bodies; others are constantly struggling with feeling as though they should lose weight. Some of them have been policed and shamed for their bodies. Every single one of them, however, can walk into any clothing store we pass on the street in New York or Boston or Los Angeles or Chicago or Miami and feel reasonably comfortable that the store will have clothing that will fit her body. I don’t have that privilege. Although I certainly can’t guarantee that this never happens, none of the people I know who wear around a US size six have had a doctor dismiss a genuine health concern because it would “just go away if she lost weight.”
We live in a fucked up culture that is set up to ensure that no woman – no person – ever feels adequate. Otherwise, there would be no market for diet pills or body shaping undergarments, muscle builders or “Yoga for weight loss.” We’re expected to strive for physical “perfection” at the expense of mental and physical health. No one is immune, but embracing “inbetweenie” as part of my identity allows me to feel comfortable participating in FA as more than an ally while acknowledging that I have privileges that those fatter than me do not necessarily have. It helps me see how my experience of being fat is both similar and different from that of fatter people and what I have in common with thinner people who struggle to feel good about themselves when there are messages everywhere telling them how they should want to change their bodies.
Not everyone identifies with the term inbetweenie, and just because you have the option to doesn’t mean that you must. All categories have gray areas, and inbetweenies are no different, but for me, having this identity, this category, helps me identify and connect with people who have had experiences that resonate most closely with my own and allows me to be more aware of those whose experiences are vastly different.
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I’m including this because I think it’s interesting, but couldn’t find a way to really incorporate it into the rest of the essay. To illustrate what a variety of people will look like at around the same height and weight as me, I’ll link to the website My Body Gallery, here and here.
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The Importance of Being Inbetweenie (or Why identifying as an inbetweenie matters to me)
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