I can’t pinpoint exactly when I began to see fatphobia everywhere in American fiction. It did not come all at once, but little by little. I saw it when I was in graduate school and a man turned in a story where a boy looks at a fat girl and thinks not all humans are made in God’s image. I saw it at a bookstore where the bookseller recommended me a novel about a fat man whose life consists only of sad drudgery until an “inciting” incident. Huh, I thought, to the feeling rising inside of me. That’s my life they’re talking about. My image.
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