Lately I have been reading a lot of opinion articles about why we should eradicate the word “fat” from our vocabularies. The authors called the word “harmful," “demeaning," and “gross." Honestly, though, I do not mind the word at all. In fact, I embrace it. Now, before someone comments something like “she only thinks the word fat is not bad because she is skinny," I should let you know that I am—medically speaking—obese. Obese, unlike fat, is a word I do not particularly enjoy. Let me tell you why:

“Fat” is not something that defines me. I am not fat. I have fat. A lot of it. “Obese," conversely, tends to be something which defines an individual. It is something the doctor tells you before giving you weight-loss tips or telling you that there are serious health concerns associated with obesity. It is something used to change you from an individual, from a human being with valid opinions and emotions, into a statistic. The sensationalized headlines about “America’s Rampant Obesity Problem” or “America’s Number One Killer: Obesity” are far more destructive for a person’s emotional and mental state than the word “fat” could ever be.

Throughout my life, I have been ridiculed for my weight. In middle school, I was given the nickname “18-wheeler," a reference to the gigantic trucks which intimidate drivers of little cars everywhere. I was always hyper-conscious of my weight, and that worry, that ever-present nagging in my head about what I should eat, what I should wear, what I should say to others about my weight simply made me gain more. Early in high school, someone wrote a play for an English assignment, and in it, they cast me as a whale. Despite being talented and smart, I became obsessed with my classmates’ ridicule. I wore only what I thought made me look skinnier, I constantly compared myself to the girls around me, and I avoided eating a lot in front of other people. I did not want to give the people around me more of a reason to think I was fat.

Once I got to college, almost all of my body issues went away. My confidence is not unwavering, but it is fairly consistent. I frequently do mention my weight in conversation with people, and sometimes use it as a joke. I have been told that behavior like that is a coping mechanism for being insecure about my weight, but that is not how I view it. I mention my weight because it is there. It exists. There is no point in pretending I do not have lumps of fat on my body. Everyone can see it. I can see it. Why would I avoid mentioning it?

I spent so many years in high school and middle school trying to prevent people from realizing I was fat, but the thing about being fat is that everyone already knows. No matter how hard you stress about hiding it, no matter how often you obsess over it, it cannot be hidden. When I came to that realization, it was a huge relief. A body shaper, the color black, and sucking my stomach in did not convince anyone that I was not overweight. So why should I bother spending so much time and so much emotional strength hoping no one would notice?

People always notice, but they pretend not to in order to make me feel better. They say things like “you’re not fat” or “you carry your weight well” as though I should be ashamed of having fat cells and cellulite. Their placating comments about my weight are well-meaning, but they are almost as bad as derogatory comments about my body. These are people who think they are supporting me, when really they are denying the existence of something which very much exists because they think it will make me uncomfortable. The comment “you’re not fat, you’re beautiful” is even worse. It insinuates a person cannot be fat and beautiful.

I am both fat and beautiful. I am also smart, funny, and talented. I am not the only person who believes so, just as you are not the only person who believes you are attractive and worthy of love. Some people will find you attractive in spite of your weight, some will be attracted you because of your weight, and some will find you attractive without your weight playing into the equation at all. But the same thing can be said for people of all sizes.

Fat is not an evil word. Fat is not an identity. Fat is a just a thing. There is no need to get rid of the descriptor word, as long as the individual in question is accepting of its usage. I am by no means encouraging you to say “wow, you’re fat” to the next individual you see, but I also do not believe we need to eradicate it from our vocabularies.

What would we do without the word “fat?" We would look at a piece of meat and say “ew, I hate the plus-sized parts." Does that make sense? No. It does not make sense to do that with people, either. In order to rid the word “fat” of the negative connotation which people so greatly fear, we must reclaim it. If the LGBTQIA+ community can reclaim “queer," and feminists can reclaim “b*tch," then I can reclaim fat. In fact, I am reclaiming it now.

I am reclaiming my double chin. I am reclaiming my back rolls. I am reclaiming my shelf butt. I am reclaiming my thunder thighs, my cankles, my cellulite, my flabby arms, my chubby cheeks. I am reclaiming my body. It has a lot of fat, and it is beautiful. My body lets me do all the things I need it to do: hike, play with dogs, study, learn, write, dance, sing, watch Netflix, prove the haters wrong. There is no reason to dislike my body. It is mine.

This article is for all the people out there who feel like they are not enough because they have fat. This is for the people who feel like they cannot wear bikinis or swim trunks without a t-shirt to the pool because mainstream media says so—even if the only way to get a bikini body is simply to put on a bikini. This is for the people who feel like they have to dress a certain way to conceal bumps, lumps, rolls, love handles, and double chins. This is for the people who do not like their superhero-worthy thick thighs. This is for the fat people.

Embrace it. Embrace you. Do not feel like you have to hide. Do not feel like you should never mention your weight. Do not accept it when someone else puts you down or acts superior. Do not allow yourself to feel like you are not good enough, because you are. You are enough.