This is perhaps the greatest triumph of fat hate: it stops us before we start. Its greatest victory isn’t diet industry sales or lives postponed just until I lose a few more pounds. It’s the belief that our bodies make us so worthless that we aren’t deserving of love, even touch. It’s the moment that our reviled role sinks into our bones. It’s when we reproduce it in our marrow. This is the photosynthesis of fat hate.