003: Fat People Should Never Laugh!

Everything costs — and we showed up anyway.

G. 💋

and

GSP

Jul 06, 2025

Time flies when you’re not paying attention

Well, well. Look at us – halfway through 2025. And we’re steel here (word to Tisha).

I don’t know about y’all, but time is truly slipping away from me. If you feel it too, especially as you get older, you’re not crazy. Just human!

One explanation? Log time, or proportional theory. As we age, each year becomes a smaller chunk of our lives overall, making it seem like these days just blend together. There's also the novelty theory. As we grow up, everything is new. First days of school, graduations, your first car, job, or apartment, your first love…your first heartbreak. Our brains were working overtime to process it all. As adults? Eat, sleep, work, scroll. Wash, rinse, repeat. We stop taking in life because we stop living it. What I’ve learned? Time stretches where there's information. Novelty, presence, intention – they slow things down. So, if you find that the days have been running together, the answer isn’t another self-help book or another planner.

It’s to live.

Time is a social construct anyway. So let’s stretch it, bend it, break it — whatever it takes to feel alive.

Let’s set the scene with some songs to stir the senses and remind you that time doesn’t pass us by when we’re paying attention.

Time Warp(ed) – Apple Music | Spotify

If you’re feeling this, hit subscribe. Let’s keep finding ways to slow down and live a little more, together.

Girlfriends

When the plot thickened: becoming best friends

G.: Those posts where the girls talk about their day ones from the diapers? Yeah—don’t have ‘em. What I do have, though, is a friendship I genuinely can’t believe I made it so far into my 20s as I did before it really arrived. A slow burn, if you will. 💖 Like most people, the Covid-19 pandemic disrupted my real-life relationships. But in that strange, suspended time, we built something virtual that somehow felt solid: long FaceTime calls, swapping Reels (and eventually Toks), talking about the meaning of life while disinfecting groceries.

GSP: I agree! We grew closer under the shadow of corona and the weight of figuring ourselves out. I think of multiple inflection points–heartbreaks, moral outrage, friend drama, workplace angst. So much of our early friendship was processing the world together as two twenty-something Black girls trying to survive it. For me, it both creeped up and happened loudly.

G.: Your birthday party in 2023 stands out. Yes, we were emotionally close by then, and had hung out plenty – parties, dinners, school events, and work stuff. But that night was different. It was one of the first times I was at your home. It felt intimate…it felt intentional? Like going from messaging to meeting IRL… but best friend edition. A little more serious lol.

Performance doesn’t just live online. We perform in real life too — holding it together, smiling through, keeping up the facade

GSP: Ah, the '70s party! You’re right, it was intentional for you to be there. We were dancing the night away in my living room, and up until that night, we’d built–and experienced without trying–mutual vulnerability in our friendship. To be frank, we’d been through some shit together and our friendship blossomed through heartbreak by then. There was the night I showed up at your place when everything fell apart. And another when I called you crying. Different circumstances, same year. We held each other up, without hesitation.

G.: When the veil is pierced in a way no one is expecting, it definitely disorients you, but it also…frees you? I wasn’t ready for that, that night. Neither were you. But you came with me, anyway. It was quiet, but impactful. There was no hiding. There was no…pretending. Not to say I had been pretending before, but I was…exposed.

Performance doesn’t just live online. We perform in real life too — holding it together, smiling through, keeping up the facade. The one I’d been trying to keep my grip on finally collapsed that night. And you didn’t judge me. You took care of me. That gave me the freedom to be my full self. After that night, I guess I was always waiting for the other shoe to drop, like it had in other bestiehoods. Because now I wasn’t “perfect.” But it didn’t. (It still hasn’t.) I felt…assured. Like, “We really locked in.”

GSP: Yeah, that night grabbed hold of us and said, “Look, you have a choice to fall apart and away from each other or allow this unexpected intimacy to bring you closer.” We chose the latter.

I felt that closeness again, on a different occasion, late enough at night, I called you crying (likely, sobbing) about feeling deeply hurt, unseen, and unheard in a different relationship. Before I called—and during the call tbh—I knew that sharing my pain was a step forward for our friendship. It takes me a while to show people the viscerally messy parts of my life, especially in the moment. But I trusted you. I needed your support, and without missing a beat, you held me up.

And then there’s the lighthearted intentionality that followed. Once our walls came down, we said, “We got something good here,” and chose to nurture this friendship through more regular FaceTimes, our G² TV nights, and random deep convos that start off “real quick” and go on for hours. Our casual hangouts are reminders that sometimes that’s the whole point of being besties. To be able to just be.

Let us know — we’re suckers for a bestie origin story. 💌

Ease, Please

Fat people should never laugh!

As someone slowly creeping her way back into online spaces after almost a year of avoidance (intentional at first, then not so much lol), I’ve been watching the feed from a distance. I’m in it, but not really. That distance makes it easier to notice when online trends bleed into real life, and vice versa. One ‘trend’ that’s returned with the loudest vengeance? Fatphobia.

But honestly, are we surprised?

In my circles, we’ve been having conversations about what feels like a societal regression. Millennials did a lot of grunt work expanding our thinking. As an in-betweener, I was shaped by movements such as #LoveisLove, body positivity, #BlackLivesMatter, and "my body, my choice." We were taught to name things — fatphobia, systemic racism, generational trauma — so we could heal.

And, for a while, we did.

We’ve learned that BMI is trash — not just medically flimsy, but also racist in origin (like many things in Western medicine, but that’s a whole other essay).

We started to understand that someone’s size isn’t just about willpower or discipline. It’s shaped by access, money, mental health, chronic conditions, trauma, and even zip codes.

We acknowledge the rich & famous have entire teams — trainers, chefs, estheticians, surgeons, dietitians, med spa techs — and spend thousands to look like filtered versions of themselves. A salad doesn’t make you virtuous, and a burger doesn’t make you bad. We got the message.

Or…I thought we did. Lately, I’ve seen fatphobia I haven’t encountered since I was a teen — the kind of vitriol I thought we’d grown too self-aware to type in public. But there it is, flooding any post featuring visible adipose tissue. The comments? Brutal.

How can fatness not matter in a society that equates thinness with goodness?

Some of this is algorithmic – platforms like X (Twitter) and Facebook have rolled back content moderation, and it shows. Trolls, bots, and paid instigators flood comments and replies. Automated or not, the words hurt. And, what does it say that these are the messages even the bots are spitting out? Someone programmed them that way.

Then, there’s the GLP-1 boom – Ozempic, Wegovy, and their mainstream rise as weight-loss meds. Just like with BBLs, therapy, or luxury anything: once the general public has access, the thing is no longer aspirational. It becomes a punchline.

We hate fat people. We especially hate fat women. And don’t be Black, either.

Tuh. Enter: Lizzo

Full disclosure: I’m not a Lizzo fan or hater. She just exists in the music universe for me. But I’ve always defended her because of the specific hate she gets for wearing what thinner artists wear — tight, short, barely-there fits. On them? Normal. On her? Offensive. And she has the nerve to be confident? How dare she.

Lizzo recently went on the Just Trish podcast to discuss her weight “release,” which included a “brief” stint using Ozempic. Now, I have other thoughts about the way she frames weight loss, but most of the #discourse I’ve seen has been about how she “cheated” and didn’t do it the “right” way.

But when she was posting gym videos? People mocked her. When she didn’t post them?? Still mocked. So let’s be real: when exactly is the “right” way?

Fat people are shamed for losing weight through meds or surgery, mocked for doing it “naturally.” We’re hated if we’re confident, pitied if we’re insecure. Labeled lazy, undisciplined, unhealthy — no matter what we do. You just can’t win for losing if you’re a fatty.

Societally, we generally accept that people are naturally thin. Fast metabolisms, small frames, "lucky" genes. Why can’t we accept that some people are just… naturally bigger? Fatphobia, like all the other -isms, isn’t just about who gets desired (though yes, desirability politics matter — deeply). It’s about who gets hired. Who gets believed. Who is seen as intelligent, disciplined, and trustworthy. We talk about pretty privilege all the time — and we should. So how can fatness not matter in a society that equates thinness with goodness?

Are people allowed to have "preferences?" Yes. Are a lot of people’s preferences a result of conditioning? Also yes. History is full of evolving beauty ideals shaped by power, culture, and economics, and often excludes.

At this point, I’ve been fat more of my life than I haven’t. I’ll never be skinny—not because I've “given up," but because it’s not my body type. And I’m okay with that. My health has nothing to do with the number on the scale or how the fat sits on my body.

My health is about what I put into it. How I move my body. How I care for my mind.

That’s health.
That’s wealth.

Plotting in Public

June had somewhere to be, didn't it?

Sun rays, concerts, and locking in with the community 🫱🏿‍🫲🏾

We launched For the Plot in early June, and as fabulous as the month was, it barely kissed our cheek on the way out. Because how are we already approaching the second week of July? Brief goodbye aside, we made sure to fully embrace what the first full month of Summertime Chi had to offer.

And not that you asked 🤭, but here are a few pro tips for summering in Chicago:

First: Don’t be fooled–overpriced drinks and cover fees are not the only way to enjoy summer here. (ngl I did get scammed a little during Black Yacht Weekend, even though my Black ass knew better 😒) But! There are plenty of free, wholesome, and fun things to do in this city. One of my faves? A free movie in the park moment! Last month, we witnessed two Lindsay Lohans reunite with both parents, while we lounged on a picnic blanket, surrounded by fellow millennials who were also crying into the chips and dip they brought from home (I’m sorry but The Parent Trap just does it for me). That evening was one of my June highlights. I don’t ask for much.

Second: Enjoy the arts. Chicago is home to a plethora of venues, and magnetic performances–both free and paid–that are happening all the time. From celebrating G.’s birthday 🥳 with a suite at the Grand National Tour to marveling at the legendary (and Chicago’s very own) Mavis Staples at the free Chicago Blues Fest to being enchanted by Tony winner Heather Headley—my arts cup? Overfloweth.

Lastly: The sun is doing its big one lately, and everyone seems to have a bit more pep in their step now. Channel some of that energy into connection by locking in with your community–whether that’s patronizing your favorite bookstore (s/o Semicolon Books) or volunteering at your neighborhood community garden. Go outside, make a friend, do something nice for and with someone.

All in all, a time was had last month, and here are the pics to prove it.

TTYL

Thanks for reading! If this issue made you laugh, think, or feel a little something, share For the Plot with your friends—or foes 😈 We’re knocking on the door of 50 subscribers (!), and we can’t wait to grow this community bigger, stronger, and more vibrant. Until next time, stay fabulous, cuties.

xo,

G & G. 💌

P.S. Next issue, we’re going to delve deeper into the importance of making quality time in your friendships and how sadly, so many female friendships are reduced to just catching up. Stay tuned. :)