Fatphobia Is the Last Publicly Acceptable Hate

And somehow you still think it’s just “health concern”? Be serious.

Just decided to release this shorter article I had sitting in drafts from a few months back because fatphobia feels like it’s ramped up again and I am, quite frankly, PISSED. This isn’t my usual long-form spiral (okay it is because I love a rant), but it’s also just me voicing some overdue frustration about the kind of violence people excuse with a smile and a protein shake.

I don’t know what’s going on lately, but fatphobia feels louder than usual. And somehow, it’s being clapped for.

Last week, walking to my usual working café, I passed two lads chatting outside Greggs (ironic). One of them pointed at a woman crossing the road and said, “She’s a fat munter.” Just like that. Full volume. Like it was a public service announcement. Meanwhile, he looked like a bin bag of wet clothes with nicotine fingers and jeans clinging on for dear life below his arse crack. Sir, your appearance is fixable with a shower and a pair of socks. Hers is none of your business — and statistically, she probably has better cholesterol and a book collection.

It’s like the world’s forgotten fat people are… people. Or maybe it’s that we never really believed they were in the first place.

Just Worried About Your Health x

Nobody says “I hate fat people” anymore. That would be rude. Instead, they say: “I’m just really into health.”

Oh, thank god! It’s not bigotry, it’s vitamins.

Modern fatphobia wears a Lululemon jumpsuit and calls itself “concern.” It shows up in fake compliments — “You’ve lost so much weight! You look incredible!” (Translation: You used to disgust me slightly less than I do now.) Or the classic: “I’m just worried about your health…”

Right. Because nothing says “I care about your wellbeing” like policing what someone eats at a family BBQ.

Here’s the issue I have: we don’t say that to people who vape like chimneys, drink Monster for breakfast, or get winded walking up three stairs. We say it to fat people. Fat people who might have PCOS, chronic illness, trauma, disordered eating, or simply… exist.

And let’s be truthful… if that same woman on the street had been underweight, visibly frail? We’d coo. We’d say “bless her.” We’d whisper. But fatness? Fatness makes people foam at the mouth like it personally wronged them.

It’s not about health. It’s about control. It’s about disgust. It’s about making sure people know what happens if they dare take up space.

Congrats on Losing Weight, Here’s a Personality

I’m not here to shame anyone who takes Ozempic. Truly. Your body, your rules. What I am here to do is ask why society only hands out praise, promotions, and personality quizzes to women who physically shrink themselves. Why is losing weight still treated like a character arc?

Because fatphobia isn’t just about aesthetics… it’s about power. Access. Basic human respect.

We tell fat women to “just be confident” while simultaneously designing a world that punishes them for taking up space. No plus-size options in shops, no respectful healthcare, no nuanced characters in media unless they’re comic relief or crying about cake. But yeah, just be confident!

Let’s be (very) real here: body diversity is still fake-woke. Brands will throw in a “curvy” model who’s a size 12, white, and smooth as a dolphin — then pat themselves on the back for being progressive. Fat is only acceptable when it’s got an hourglass figure and a brand deal. “Palatable fat.” “Instagrammable fat.” Not real-life fat, with belly creases and back rolls and thighs that don’t apologise when they touch.

It’s not Ozempic that’s the villain. It’s the system that only rewards women when we disappear.

It Was Never About Health

Fatphobia is just patriarchy doing drag in a Gymshark set.

Let’s stop pretending this is about health. It’s not. It’s about control. It's about keeping women small — in size, in appetite, in volume, in ambition. We’re taught from toddlerhood that desirability equals shrinkage. Be smaller. Be sweeter. Be less. Wanting more is somehow rude. Taking up space? A sin with a side of side-eye.

The obsession with thinness has never been about aesthetics. It’s about obedience. A thin woman is a compliant woman (or so the system hopes.) Quiet, disciplined, non-threatening. A “success story.”

But fat women? They’re not unhealthy. They’re uncontainable. They refuse to apologise. They eat the chips. They laugh loudly. They dress for themselves and not your delicate male gaze. And that? That terrifies people.

Because how dare someone be visible, happy, and fat all at once. That’s not a body — that’s a revolution.

Let People Be Fat in Peace

This was never about weight. It’s always been about worth.

I want to live in a world where fat women get the same softness, desirability, career opportunities, seat space, and bloody respect that thin women are handed like a party favour at birth. Until then? I’ll keep talking. Loudly. With a side of toast. Maybe a mocktail. Probably wearing something “unflattering.” Because shrinking isn’t the goal. Expanding the narrative is. And if that makes people uncomfortable… good. Let it.