“It was refreshing to see something that reflected me,” writes Lucy Partington of the craze for art, candles and ceramics that celebrate pot bellies, ample breasts and bottoms.
I should probably start this by telling you two important things about me: the first is that I’m not an interiors aficionado, and the second is that I’m fat. I always have been, or at least that’s what it feels like.
Until a couple of years ago, I was on some kind of diet for as long as I can remember. As a tall, chubby teenager – the tallest and chubbiest out of all my friends, probably out of everybody at my school – I did WeightWatchers. Even before I was old enough to be a member I’d tag along with my mum, and every Sunday evening I’d go next door to my auntie’s house and get weighed in her bathroom.
Diets weren’t a thing while I was at university, which offered a brief period of respite. Instead, I embraced the freedom and lived off pasta, own-brand cider and 3am trips to the fried chicken shop. I don’t remember worrying about my weight or how I looked back then – maybe it’s because I was drunk, or maybe I just didn’t care enough. Maybe it was both.Moving to London in 2012 changed everything again, though, and I found myself joining Slimming World.
What I’m trying to say is that I’ve never really been happy with or accepting of my body and how I look. Over the last few years I’ve started following more plus-size influencers on Instagram, trying to get on board with the whole body positivity thing, and while I know those people I follow and look up to are all beautiful, I never saw myself in the same way, and to be honest, I never thought I would.