The Weight of Silence

A photograph captures a quiet, foggy morning in a small coastal village.

I have always loved food. The smell of fresh bread, the sweetness of chocolate melting on my tongue, the comfort of a warm stew on a rainy day. Food has been my friend, my celebration, my consolation.

But society doesn’t see it that way. Society sees my body first. My curves, my softness, my size. And with that gaze comes judgment. The whispers in the supermarket aisle, the laughter behind me in the café, the silent disapproval at family dinners when I reach for seconds.

I learned to repress joy. To hide the delight of tasting, to pretend I wasn’t hungry, to swallow shame along with every bite. The world told me that pleasure was forbidden for someone like me. That appetite was a sin, that fatness was failure.

Yet inside, I know the truth: my body is not a crime. My hunger is not a weakness. My love for food is not shameful. It is human. It is mine.

Writing this here feels like peeling away a layer of silence. For once, I can say it without fear: I am fat, I love to eat, and I am tired of pretending otherwise.

Thank you for creating this page, for giving space to voices like mine. In a world that often demands silence from bodies like ours, this feels like a small revolution.

By: Muffinella Crumbsworth