A couple weeks ago at the lovely University of Kansas, one of my English classes discussed "fat identity." For those who don't know (don't feel bad, I had no idea what it was either), there is a new movement happening called the "Body Positivity Movement" that encourages everyone to feel comfortable with their bodies just the way they are and to strive for healthy living instead of attempting to achieve some type of "ideal" body. Therefore, people who self-identify as "fat" have both accepted their bodies as they are and have reclaimed the word to mean something positive rather than negative.

Confused? Lots of big words? Here's an example. Suppose someone comes up to you and says, "You're stupid." Now, the average individual thinks they have three options: one, punch the other person; two, become incredibly offended; or three, reply, "I'm not stupid, that's ridiculous."

While all three seem to have their merits (though violence is never the answer, kids), each choice implies that "stupid" is an insult. People who have reclaimed the word "fat," however, have presented a fourth option: To look at the person and say, "Thanks, I appreciate it!"

To "reclaim" a word is to take a word that usually has a negative connotation and making it positive. As Bustle columnist Amanda Richards puts it, "Instead of internalizing the hatred behind the word when it's used maliciously, many fat women are reclaiming it as their own. When a word intended to harmful is stripped of its power, unusual and liberating things begin to happen" (Richards). Reclaiming a usually harsh term like "fat" can be particularly freeing for people because they realize that not just one word defines them. In the same article, Kelsie Kullman, aspiring singer and actor, says, "'Yes, I'm fat. 'But I'm also tall, a (unnatural) redhead, an actor, a friend, a sister, a daughter. I'm all of these things. One word doesn't define me. One word can't define me. Unless I was a bowl of plain sour cream, there's more than one word to describe every person.'"

More and more people have, like Kelsie, started taking the word "fat" and making it just that: a word. Hollie Burgess, a British blogger and plus-size model, advocates "fat" to be used as any other adjective. She says, "'I reclaimed the word fat when I realized the word is what you make it. It's a bit like the age-old saying, "Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me." I realized that fat is a descriptive word and if I refuse to let it hit me as a derogatory term'" (qtd. in Richards).

Why then is "fat" essentially a bad description? Even though "data from a nationally representative survey of high school seniors [shows that] fatness was completely uncorrelated with grades, educational aspirations, enjoyment of school, self-rated intelligence and ability, and physical health" (Crandall and Schiffhauer 1)? The answer is Culture! Our society tells us that we need to be fit but not muscle-y, thin but not skinny, and curvy but not fat. Celebrities advocate it, and the beauty industry makes a pretty penny off if.

Don't believe me? Take a look at the Kardashians/Jenners, any of them. Love them or hate them, our society is obsessed with them, especially how they look. Kim's corset waist-trimmer and Kylie's lip kits are just a few examples of how you too can get the "ideal" look. Because of this deep-rooted ideology that we need to look a certain way, "a significant reduction of anti-fat prejudice is a remarkably difficult task" (2). Fortunately for us "normal" people in the world, actions like reclaiming the word "fat" is a step in the right direction.

I know what you're thinking. "Marisa, silly, this is all well and good in your little, article, but I don't actually want to be called fat in real life." I get it, I really do. Up until a few weeks ago, I was right along with you, but then I shifted my viewpoint a bit when two events happened: one, we did this unit; and two, I gained some of what I'm calling the "Sophomore Seventy."

In middle school, I was a really skinny kid. I didn't have much baby fat and was definitely all limbs 100 percent of the time. I was actually teased about how thin I was. However, I was eating all the time, and I had more important things to think about, like my friends, pimples, boys, High School Musical, and whatever else my crazy little mind was obsessed with. In high school, I ran cross country and long-distance in track, so I had a consistent workout all year. In college. . .not so much.

I'll be honest, I was used to being on the smaller side, so when I started maturing and gaining weight, it freaked me out. Suddenly, I couldn't fit into my favorite jeans anymore and I needed a larger-sized bra. For the first time in my life, I looked in the mirror, and I didn't like how my body looked. Honestly, there were days I hated it.

The point of my life story isn't that I'm now fat, so boo-hoo me. The point is that I no longer felt comfortable in my body, and that's a problem. Since learning about "fat identity" and how empowering it is to take an insult and turn it into nothing more than a descriptor, I've started trying to embrace my body as is, not how it used to be. It's been a rough transition, don't get me wrong, but I know it'll be worth it.

The moral of this article is simple: love yourself, no matter what your shape and size. You have so much more to offer the world than just "fat." Intelligence, wit, humor, enthusiasm, and energy are just few amazing words to choose from. Don't let your physical looks define you as a person.