sizeism

I don’t remember when I started holding in my stomach. [...] It’s hard to trace a habit so ingrained that I don’t know it exists. Until I’m lying on a table and her hand rests at my solar plexus and she tells me to let go. I can’t. I don’t know how, or not yet.

Although the hunt for the perfect outfit at the thrift store was a thrill when I was thin, as a fat person, the hunt was just downright depressing.

You know what’s more “ostracizing” than being called plus-size? Actually BEING plus-size and unable to find clothes that fit you and that you like.
Plus-size people do not have the same choices as those who wear straight sizes — not in style, quality, price point, or availability. THAT'S ostracizing.

My relationship with body is anything but “typical.” So far, I’ve hated my body at every size — and not just because of my size.

I’m not going to tarnish Zulily’s name (probably) but what actually is The Season For Plus-Size? And does this mean it is My Season? Furthermore does this mean it is not The Season For All The Other Sizes?