You can feel it before the first bite: the eyes. At the grocery store, in the lunchroom, on a patio with friends. The gaze that says, “Are you sure you should be eating that?” The unspoken judgment, the side-eye at what’s in your cart, the awkward pause when you order dessert.
To live in a fat body is to know that food isn’t just food. It’s a stage where strangers, family, and even friends appoint themselves judges of your choices, your body, your worth.
A bag of chips in a thin hand is a treat. A bag of chips in a fat hand is a failure. A second plate for a thin person is hunger. A second plate for a fat person is shame.
This is how social surveillance works: it turns every meal into a performance, every bite into a test of character, every chew into a silent negotiation with the gaze of others. It doesn’t matter if you’re eating a salad or a sandwich, a protein bowl or a pastry—fat people are taught to apologize for wanting to eat at all, to make disclaimers about their choices, to shrink themselves even while nourishing themselves, until hunger itself becomes something to be hidden, rationed, or denied.
Across Toronto, Cairo, and London, fat folks shared with me the small humiliations and quiet courage it takes to navigate family dinners, first dates, and grocery store aisles while the world watches and judges them for simply feeding themselves.
“My mom will side-eye my plate but then tell me I’m not eating enough to be healthy. I can’t win. It’s like no matter what I eat, it’s wrong.” – Hana, 29
“I was on a date, and the person said, ‘Wow, you eat more than I thought you would.’ Like, what does that even mean? I left that dinner questioning if I should have just ordered a salad to make them comfortable.” – Amina, 34
“At work, I notice people watching what I put on my plate during lunch, like they’re waiting to see if I’ll mess up. It makes me want to skip lunch, but I refuse.” – Samira, 42
“Family dinners are the worst. Someone always makes a comment, like ‘Do you really need that?’ as if I haven’t heard it a thousand times before.” – Jamal, 27
But amid the shame, there is resistance. Eating in public while fat is an act of defiance in a culture that wants you to disappear. It is pushing back against the whispers and stares, the diet ads and family comments, the fear that every bite will be judged. Taking up space at a table, ordering what you want without apology, laughing loudly, savoring your food, and refusing to shrink—these are radical acts of survival and joy.
Food is not a moral test. Hunger is not a crime. And fat bodies deserve to eat, to savour, to be full, and to be seen without shame.
This piece is for everyone who has ever looked at their plate and wondered if it was too much. It’s for fat people claiming their right to nourishment, and for allies who need to learn that minding your own plate is solidarity in action.
Eating is living. And fat people have the right to live, fully and unapologetically, with every bite.
