Why We Need to Stop Using the Term ‘Plus Size’

Amy Schumer wasn’t pleased with Glamour magazine this week. (Photo: Getty Images)

Amy Schumer threw down the gauntlet Tuesday by firing back at Glamour magazine for including her in its plus-size issue — and for perpetuating the label “plus size.” And to me it made total sense.

By its own admission, Glamour marketed the issue to women who are size 10 and above (Schumer says she’s size 6 to 8, if that matters to anyone).

Here’s the problem with the term “plus size”: It’s nothing but a condescending label that was made up by the very fashion industry that brainwashed us into thinking that ultra-thin is the norm for every woman — and is now trying to backpedal in the clumsiest way possible: by isolating and honoring women who don’t fit into the clothes of runway models, then patting themselves on the back for being “inclusive.”

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It’s ridiculous, and it needs to stop. (And by the way, that very ridiculousness is at the heart of Schumer’s brand of satire.)

“The term ‘plus size’ was invented by an industry that tries to convince us that undersize women are normal,” Sarah Maria, a California-based body-image expert and author of Love Your Body, Love Your Life, tells Yahoo Beauty. And it’s true: Sizes 10 to 12 are actually average for American women as whole, according to research by the University of Texas. The only reason clothing brands like Glamour’s editorial sponsor Lane Bryant exist is because most mainstream clothing companies size their products according to fashion-industry standards rather than the bodies of their actual customers.

Some women are size 0. Others are size 8. Still others are size 16 and above. Why can’t all these women buy their clothes in the same stores?

The post that started the firestorm this week. (Photo: Instagram)

It wasn’t until I graduated college that I realized how much society’s beauty standards had hurt me personally. I went to high school in the 1990s, at the height of the “waif” look’s popularity. Like most girls, I wanted to be petite and stick-thin, like Kate Moss. In a 1993 New York Times interview, Anna Wintour said of Moss and her catwalking counterparts, “It’s a new breed … and they’re not yet fully grown.” Regardless, many grown women developed eating disorders in an attempt to keep up with beauty standards that were based on girls who were still growing.

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I was almost fully grown in high school — but much to my chagrin, I’d already passed waif size years before, in middle school. By the time high school rolled around, my feet were a size 9 (and I have ingrown toenails to this day from trying desperately to squeeze into smaller shoes). In college, I ate next to nothing for a couple of years so I could look as cute and tiny in my baby doll tops and overalls as Drew Barrymore did — but instead I just looked malnourished, and my “baggy” overalls hugged my ample hips. There was no amount of starving on Earth that was going to change my bone structure.

“Acute eating disorders — anorexia or bulimia — are real issues a lot of people deal with in an attempt to be thin,” says Maria. As a petite woman, she feels it’s important to include her demographic in the argument — which is that real women come in all sizes (though she admits the stigma against smaller women pales in comparison to the taboo against bodies larger than a size 6).

My childhood friend Dee, ashamed by her “plus” size in high school, tried to camouflage her body instead of changing it. “I would apply dark red lipstick as I was walking to school,” she remembers. “I hoped that my lips would detract from my fuller figure. I layered my clothes to ‘hide’ my body. I never ate in front of anyone.” Today, Dee is the proud, healthy mom of a teenager. “I’ve always reassured her that she is beautiful and to never follow the masses,” she says. “It’s what lies inside a person’s heart, what trembles in her soul and rocks her core, that matters.”

Another friend, Laura, is comfortable with her full figure — and with the term “plus size” … well, for now. “The term needs to be seen positively or we will still be considered ‘the others,’” she says. “If we start seeing ‘plus’ as equal, we will then see a shift in inclusivity. And that is when we should remove the term ‘plus size.’ Until then, we need to keep it alive because we are still far from being equal.”

Laura adds, “I was bulimic from age 12 to 24, and when I was thin, people always commented on how healthy I looked. But the thin version of me was promoting an unhealthy lifestyle.” Today, Laura — a proud size 18 — makes it a point to stay fit. She eats healthfully, does CrossFit training three times a week to stay strong, and practices yoga once a week to stay balanced. Plus, she says, “I spend time with people that are positive and believe in my existence in this world.”

As for the fashion industry, I get it. I really do. They have products to sell, and stick-thin models showcase clothing best when they walk down the runway — mainly because you can see the clothing clearly without being distracted by the woman’s curves. But why must this body standard be applied to all women? Why can’t we celebrate the beauty of real women, period, regardless of size?

I’d love to watch my teenage niece grow up in a world where she can live inside her own body without overthinking it.

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