This tummy belongs to Yarnivore, who shot this self-portrait as a way of facing up to her biggest body anxiety. Love. (Used per Flickr’s Creative Commons License.)
So, former Gucci designer/fashion mogul Tom Ford wants fat people to take their clothes off.
And actually, I agree. Sort of. Wait! I’ll tell you why in a second. First, here’s Tom (via Jezebel and Contact Music):
I spend most of my time at home naked. You know, most people actually look better nude. We are all one harmonious colour, with a symmetry and an innate elegance. Fat women almost always look better without the constraint and lumpy pinching of clothes, all the straps and elastic squeezing and sucking.
As devoted readers know, a side effect of ten months in beauty school for me was twenty extra pounds. And as I’ve been working on accepting where I am with all of that, I’ve noticed that I feel WAY better about my body when I see it in the buff, than when I actually have to get dressed and go places in it. When you’re naked, curves look fabulous. When you’re wearing jeans that are two sizes too small, all you can think about is muffin top.
And then, if you’re me, you have to spend all this time thinking about why you’re reacting negatively to the muffin top and why you think you have to fit into this culturally ordained hourglass thing, when, let’s face it, most of the women you’ve descended from were a bit more apple-y and so — itsjustafactnojudgment — you were born without a waist. It gets exhausting.
The main solution, as I have just discovered, is to get over yourself, go out and buy jeans that actually fit. (Plus jeggings! Yes, I am so rocking that trend. The flip side of the no-waist thing is, you do have legs.)
Wearing clothes that fit is far more practical than walking around naked all the time. Especially now when it’s snowing and 12 degrees outside. And so I am a little ticked off that Mr. Ford feels nudity is our best option, since, hello, he’s a clothing designer! Just whose fault is it that fat women are saddled with all that lumpy pinching clothing anyway? Hmmph.
Plus, I get super annoyed when fashion magazines decide to be all open-minded and show women of different sizes, but only if they’re all naked. Because again. There are many hours in the day when, no matter what your weight, you have to put clothes on your body so as to avoid arrest, frost bite.
But I also know — after hearing countless clients apologize to me for the sight of their naked bodies at Beauty U — that there are so many of people (of all sizes) who are not at all comfortable with themselves sans clothing. And that makes me sad, because if you can’t stand yourself in your birthday suit, how are any number of beautiful, even well-fitting clothes ever going to be enough to make you happy? That means clothes have become something to hide behind — when they should be icing on the (oh very tasty!) cake.
Thoughts? How does your body image change when you dress or undress?
PS. More on fat: This heart-breaking essay on Salon. The idiot New York Times ballet critic is taken to task by Salon and Dances With Fat. And this guy legitimately prefers fat chicks, what of it?
Dear Tom Ford, this isn’t a revolutionary idea. I’ve known this since I was a teenager.
I look at my totally nude self in the mirror every morning. It’s gratifying and even impressive how great I look without clothes. I love everything from my even toned skin, to my curves, to my dimples.
It’s not until I put clothes on that devastation sets in. All the sudden the fluidity of my curves gets squeezed and stuffed and fat winds up in places it shouldn’t be.
Ever hear of the TV show “how to look good naked”? Easy. Just take your clothes off.
“How to look good clothed” on the other hand would be a more informative show.
I’m thin by most people’s standards, but I have a bit of a belly that I am really not proud of. However, with the careful use of high-waisted, a-line dresses, I have mastered the art of masking my body with clothing, and making myself look like I might actually have a waist. Therefore, I feel a lot more confident clothed than I do unclothed. Clothed, I think I look damn good. As the layers come off, I notice the muffin top and the way my pale skin makes the veins show on my breasts and the cellulite on my thighs and all the things I’m gullible enough to hate. So I’d rather stay clothed, thanks.