Feminist, Fat, and Fabulous Blog: Flattering Frocks
This week, my mother and I attended a Melbourne Cup function. We got all frocked and fascinatored up, put on our heels, ate and drank all day. Our table was in prime viewing location: right near the front entrance. This meant we could see everyone who came in and out of the venue. And there were some sights. I’ve never seen so much lyrca in my life, and that’s including Saturday nights out on the town.
We’re a judgemental lot. I admit it. However, I’m very much trying to curb this tendency (err, except for the above), as I feel it’s ultimately unproductive in the long run for myself and my self esteem.
MY self esteem? Yes, that’s right. I feel like in judging people, I’m doing myself a disservice. I’m holding them up to the impossibly high standards that I hold myself up to. It’s exhausting and I don’t want to do it anymore.
We got into an argument about one woman’s outfit. I felt, despite wondering how she sat down without flashing everyone, that it was a cute outfit. The colour suited the woman, it fit well, and she wore it with obvious pride. My mother felt the outfit wasn’t ‘flattering’.
As fat women, I think we know how to decipher the ‘flattering’ code, yeah?
In case we don’t, flattering is more often than not, code for: ‘figure hiding’. ‘Hiding the fat’. ‘Oh my god must not let everyone see my fat!’
This woman? Sexy in a figure hugging dress. Not overly tight, just figure hugging. No shape wear, nothing to ‘hold her in’. And she was rocking the hell out of it.
Flattering in itself, as a word, is a judgement call. One that usually applies to females. We must dress in the best way that accentuates our assets and hides our ‘flaws’. So, if we’re fat and our fat is our ‘flaw’, does this include a body-sized paper bag? Are we supposed to hide our shameful fat from the eyes of the world?
Hell no.
So here’s what I’m going to do:
1. Continue wearing clothes I love, whether or not they’re flattering in the eyes of the world;
2. Mentally smack myself every time I try and make a judgement call on someone’s fashion choices;
3. Go get me a coffee, because I am dying for one.
That last point may or may not have had anything to do with this column, but my god, do I need one right now.
