Size Matters, Especially When It’s Fat

By S.D. Craig

Anyone who thinks size doesn’t matter, doesn’t live in America. You can laugh all the way to the grocery aisle packed full of Slim Fast and diet candy, but you can’t imagine the world we live in without the words non-fat, low fat or no fat, can you? Not if you’re able to buy, hear or read.

What is awful is the fact that a large person, a person of size, someone bigger than the life insurance charts of old, really isn’t made to feel they matter in this, the good old U.S. of A. They are, in spite of their bulk, made to feel invisible, or worse yet, made fun of.

Who decides what normal is and who decides that seats for airplanes, amusement park rides and movie theatres are just so big? Who figures out that a restaurant chair can’t be comfortable enough for a large derriere even though they’re willing to feed that same person until the cows come home. Or that a bathroom stall can’t accommodate someone larger than 180 pounds unless they sheepishly sneak into the one handicapped stall?

It matters not what the reason or even if there is a reason, it’s humiliating and needs to be stopped. Size does matter and it matters most to those of size. If we preach that we should not discriminate between race, between skin colors and languages and backgrounds, between first class and middle class, the rich or poor, than tell me, what is the difference if thin, short, tall or fat?

There shouldn’t be one. Shame on you.

Seats need to expand, hearts need to accept, the world we live in needs to relax on this issue. Models need to be heavier to look like the American public and need to eat beyond saltines and lettuce (I know this as I’m related to a former model). Actors need to be realistic in size. We can’t imagine ourselves as Meg Ryan and Colin Farrel. We just can’t.

But what we should know, feel and experience is how badly someone of size is treated, and see that it is the meanest form of prejudice. Size matters, but it shouldn’t.

Love and acceptance should.

SD Craig is a freelance writer and editor of and was given the nickname “Chatterbox” by fellow writers. At age fifty, Craigs Southern flair and sense of humor give her plenty to write about with a rapier wit and a wacky outlook. Her articles on body image (her biggest passion), marriage/divorce and relationships, family, friends, career issues, computers, the Internet, horses, baseball, movie reviews and writing tips remind one of Erma Bombeck or Dave Barry. A freelance writer who once juggled five columns then got real, Craig welcomes your e-mails and feedback on her articles. Drop her a hello at or stop by

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