It is no one’s goddamn business what I eat, except for me and my doctors. I owe no one explanations for my food choices. I owe no one an explanation for my body. I’m not obligated to share my financial availability for Good Food, nor my health surrounding ability to lose weight or process nutrients in a way ignorant people think I should. My body does not require an explanation or an apology, and it shouldn’t elicit the spouting of erroneous information or meaningless advice from friends, family, or strangers alike — and it most certainly shouldn’t inspire complete strangers to pressure me into eating things I don’t want to eat and adjusting my restaurant orders to something they’re more comfortable with a Fatty McFatperson like me eating.
If I ate nothing but fruits and vegetables, I would not be worthy of more respect.
If I ate nothing but fried foods and sweet, I would not be worthy of less respect.
If I incorporated regular intensive workouts into my daily life, I would not be a more worthy human.
If I did nothing but sit on the couch and eat Cheetos all day long, I would not be a less worthy human.
And I hate so much that, despite working constantly on body positivity and self-care for the past 4 years, all it takes is one terrible person to make me second-guess the validity of my existence and self-worth as a fat femme person.