Melissa A. Fabello

In my experience dating and sleeping with straight, cisgender dudes who worship hegemonic masculinity, I’ve noticed that there’s something really — umm — special about how they go about sexuality.

"A common response that folks struggling with eating disorders hear is something along the lines of “Just eat,” “Just stop purging,” or “Just stop overeating.” And that’s akin to telling someone with depression to “Cheer up” or someone with anxiety to “Calm down.” That is: It’s not effective. At all. It’s actually kind of offensive."

I was jealous of the dog. “That dog gets to be so thin,” I tried to explain, tearfully, to my partner, “and it doesn’t even have to try. I’ll never be that thin.”

Another awesome idea, whether the relationship is new or established, is to look at a sexual inventory checklist (like this one). The list goes through different sexual situations that are important to discuss with a partner – from body boundaries to birth control and safer sex options to what you’ve done, what you’d like to try, and what’s a big “no” for you. It’s a great, less-awkward avenue to talking about sex in a big way and to understand one another’s needs more intimately.

Right now, today, as of writing this, I identify as queer. But I didn’t always.

Uh, in case you haven’t noticed, the body acceptance movement has a bit of a body rejection problem. Namely, anyone who isn’t a thin, white, able-bodied, straight, middle class, cisgender woman gets left out of the movement altogether — which, in my opinion, isn’t very accepting.

And so I slid the scale to the back of my closet, started freely eating doughnuts when I craved doughnuts, and simply donated the jeans that stopped fitting instead of holding out hope for them.

Body neutrality is having hot sex with your partner and never overthinking the way that your ass smacks against their thighs. It’s not being embarrassed that you have fat on your body that is affected both by gravity and inertia, nor necessarily feeling sexier because you have fat on your body that is affected both by gravity and inertia. It’s enjoying that moment of intimacy, being comfortable in your body.

So you’re on a diet, and you’re really pumped about it. You truly, honestly believe that you’re—say—“getting your body back” post-partum (that’s a harmful concept) or improving your fitness a la the latest technological tracking device (that’s also a harmful concept). And while I think we need to throw a lot of these ideas in the trash, I’m also understanding of how diet culture makes you believe that these are good things – things, in fact, to brag about.