Choosing Fat

Chapter 1

Madison’s New Thesis

Madison was deep into her sociology PhD, studying how people treat weight gain—especially the bias, judgment, and shame that often come with it. She’d read piles of articles about fatphobia, body image, and how society tries to control what people look like. But lately, something felt off. The research was solid, but distant. Detached.
One afternoon, while waiting for her coffee to brew, something caught her eye on her social feed. A friend had posted a “before-and-after” photo from a weight loss journey. The comments were full of praise—“You look amazing!” “So proud of you!” But when Madison clicked back to the older photo, she didn’t see failure. She saw softness, warmth, even strength. It made her wonder: why do we treat a fat body like it’s something to escape?
That night, she pulled out her notebook and scribbled a question: What if gaining weight wasn’t giving up—but pushing back?
She started thinking about how bodies are expected to shrink, stay small, stay quiet. What if someone did the opposite—on purpose? Not to shock people, but to study the reactions. To feel the difference. To live it.
Madison decided that she didn’t want to just write about the social rules around bodies. She wanted to experience them.
She imagined her body changing—getting rounder, softer, bigger, more visible. She pictured the looks she’d get. The assumptions. The discomfort. And strangely, that idea didn’t scare her. It intrigued her.
So she made a decision. Her thesis wouldn’t just be about fatphobia—it would be about choosing it.
She opened a new document and typed the title: Choosing Fat: Living the Theory in a World Obsessed with Thinness.
This wouldn’t be a stunt. It would be a study. Her own body would become part of the research. Not to prove a point, but to ask better questions. To see what happens when you stop trying to disappear—and start taking up more space.
When Madison first started thinking about her thesis, she was 5'5" and weighed just under 125 pounds. She looked like a typical college student—healthy, put-together, and pretty in a way that didn’t scream for attention. Her face had a soft charm: warm brown eyes, a gentle smile, and auburn hair that she usually wore loose, falling just past her shoulders.
Her body was balanced and lean. Her bust—a natural C-cup—fit her frame well, with a slight bounce when she moved, but nothing dramatic. Her waist was narrow, not sculpted, just naturally trim from walking everywhere and swimming when she had time. Her hips curved gently outward, giving her a bit of shape, and her butt was round but modest—more firm than full. Her legs were one of her best features: toned from years of casual activity, not athletic, but shapely shapely in a way that made her jeans fit just right.
She had that kind of everyday confidence—comfortable in her skin, not obsessed with it. She didn’t dress to impress, but she knew how to look good when she wanted to.
Madison didn’t think much about her body back then. It was just hers—familiar, functional, quietly attractive. But that was before she started wondering what it meant to change it. Before she saw her body not just as something to maintain, but something to explore.