I don’t know of any other writer who communicates the pain of judgment from others with the vivid sensitivity that you do — which is why I always read your posts. As a woman of “standard” size, fairly thin in fact, I keep wanting to comment but worry about making some unconscious remark that only adds to the toxic onslaught — because, although I am thin, I am most definitely not free from our culture’s unending campaign against women’s bodies, and I have often been an unwitting participant.

But perhaps I can tell you this story without causing offense: I was once seated on a small regional commuter jet next to a young woman who was fat. She seemed too reserved for me to strike up small talk as I often do with a seat partner (and now I understand much better why). At one point during the flight, we hit some fairly severe turbulence. I wish I could have told that young woman how comforting I found her inadvertent touch, the grounding of her body — which was indeed not contained fully within the cramped airplane seat; mine barely was — helping to calm me. I was grateful for her presence. But I couldn’t find a way to tell her so, and I wasn’t at all sure she would welcome it. It would still be a comment on her dimensions, and I’m sure she’s sick to death of being judged entirely on the size of her body.