Chapter 1: A New Beginning

As I step into the lecture hall, I am reminded of a year ago when I sat in the front row, absorbing every word of my advanced microeconomics class. Today, instead of finding a seat, I head straight to the podium, preparing to address a room filled with students. This moment is monumental for me; I am no longer just a student tutor but a PhD candidate and lecturer. Yet, amid the excitement, I struggle to get the technical equipment to function properly. More students file in, and soon I find myself under the scrutiny of at least 70 pairs of eyes.

I chose my most flattering and comfortable dress for this occasion, hoping to minimize the intrusive thoughts about my body. Unfortunately, the dress proves to be quite challenging for attaching my microphone. After a couple of awkward minutes, I manage to secure it, albeit drawing unintended attention to my chest. I tell myself that at least the back rows can hear me; I just need to push through.

But as I start to feel a bit more at ease and move around, the microphone slips and falls to the floor. I try to shake off the embarrassment as I reattach it, but it clatters down again, this time with a louder crash. I can sense the room's energy shift.

I dare not meet the eyes of my students. I imagine their thoughts: "Look at that clumsy fat woman! She clearly doesn't know what she's doing." If only I were thinner, perhaps I would feel more confident and secure in this role. I had always envisioned that achieving my dreams would coincide with being thin, a notion heavily influenced by media representation.

While there are more narratives about women's lives and successes emerging in mainstream media, the protagonists often conform to a narrow standard of beauty. Fat women rarely achieve success without a storyline dedicated to weight loss. If a character is not undergoing a transformation related to her size, her body becomes a focal point of discussion, overshadowing her capabilities and achievements.

How can we envision lives worth living in all our diversity when this is the prevailing narrative?

I had longed to see a portrayal of a non-thin character as desirable without the baggage of weight loss or body shaming. That is until I watched the new season of Bridgerton.

Chapter 2: A Transformative Narrative

Season 3 of Bridgerton tells the story of childhood friends Colin Bridgerton and Penelope Featherington as they navigate their evolving relationship. Early in the season, Penelope undergoes both an internal and external transformation, stepping away from her previous wardrobe choices and embracing her individuality. Halfway through, her charming personality shines through, encouraged by Colin's support.

What struck me most about Penelope's journey is that her transformation has nothing to do with altering her body. I desperately craved a narrative where a character like me exists in the spotlight without the need for a tragic backstory or a weight loss arc. For the first time, I witnessed a bigger body being portrayed as desirable, not despite its shape or size but simply because it is.

Thanks to the remarkable performances of Luke Newton and Nicola Coughlan, their on-screen chemistry is palpable, making their love story both gripping and heartwarming. Their interactions are a blend of humor and emotional depth, showcasing a love that transcends societal expectations regarding body image.

In both historical and contemporary narratives, the focus on our bodies often detracts from the more compelling aspects of our stories. Women love, fight, heal, and create legacies that have nothing to do with their size. Yet, many media portrayals suggest that achieving the societal ideal of thinness is paramount, perpetuating a trap that I, too, have fallen into.

Reflecting on my experiences, I realize that every meaningful occupation requires a significant investment of oneself—energy, knowledge, empathy. Being a lecturer is no different. After my course concluded on Friday, I felt utterly drained, far more than I had anticipated when teaching large classes.

The following day, however, my thoughts quickly turned to calorie-burning exercises and plans for another weight loss attempt. Instead of celebrating my accomplishments, I was consumed by self-criticism. I find myself preoccupied with thoughts of weight loss during lunch with my colleagues, ensuring I eat less than they do. I question whether my presence is taken seriously when attending research talks, wondering if my body influences their perception of my work.

Despite being in spaces I once yearned for, I focus on how I don't fit in, and how few have shown genuine kindness towards me. Perhaps I would be treated better if I were thinner.

Key moments of joy have often been overshadowed by my fixation on weight. If only I were 30 kilograms lighter, I imagine how much more fulfilling my experiences would be. I'd finally have everything I desire.

Ultimately, I recognize that impostor syndrome has been weaponized against those of us who defy societal standards, keeping us feeling inadequate.

All I want is the privilege thin people often take for granted: for my body to be inconsequential. While I may not control how society views fat individuals, I can strive to be kinder to myself. Perhaps embracing every moment, regardless of my size, is the key to believing that true happiness and pride in my achievements are not defined by a dress size.