Greetings to my Big Sisters! It is with awe, trepidation, and great excitement that I help to inaugurate this blog for the Large (r than life?) Woman.
There is much to discuss.
And, oh boy, will we.
But first, a few introductions. I was born 6 weeks premature in the summer of 1972, and the doctors told my parents that I’d have to stay in the hospital for at least two weeks. One week later, they called and said “she’s eating so much that she can go home now.” I’ve had trouble finding well-fitting clothes ever since.
In my application for this job, I told Manolo that
[m]y vision for Manolo for the Big Girl is a site where women of all shapes can ooh and aah over the beautiful clothes that are made in Women’s and Women’s Petite sizes, share tips and secrets for looking superfantastic, applaud Big Girl celebrities (there are few, but they exist), and poke gentle fun at designers and media outlets who do not appreciate women who have more to love. It would be a place where I (and the occasional guest blogger with more expertise in various areas) would show myself to be confident and fun, while being open to suggestions and tips from the readers as well as honest about the days that feeling confident and fun is difficult . . .
What the site would not be: angry, spiteful, or a place where it is OK to make fun of skinny women. It would not be a Fat Fetish site, as I believe that it is acceptable to admit that big girls, like any women, are sometimes ashamed of our bodies. Nor would it be a site where dieting or exercise are encouraged or discouraged, as I believe that Manolo’s readers are intelligent enough to decide for themselves how to take care of their bodies and how much time or effort to invest in losing weight, and when or if to do so. The site would be about honesty, fun, and great clothes, that’s it.
Like Plumcake, I have come to terms with being fat, and no longer see that word as a value judgement (though I know that many people do, when applying it to me, but that’s their mistake, not mine). However, I personally prefer the adjective “cushiony,” which not only implies what my body looks like but also that it is something to be experienced. Being cushiony feels more like an invitation, no?