Tales of a Fierce, Fat, Fit Femme: Voyage to Size Euphoria

A few Halloweens ago, I was excited to dress up in Star Trek cosplay. I wasn’t picky about which character or series; I just wanted a cool, retro, sci-fi outfit to wear to whatever I was doing for the holiday. 

Looking through the racks at the costume shop, I flipped through small after small, and mediums and larges that didn’t look much more promising. Glancing at the sizing chart, there was no way in hell anything in the store was going to fit. 

My straight-sized friend bounced back over, asking what I had found. 

“Oh these are way too expensive; I’m just gonna throw something together at home,” I said, pulling her forcefully away from the racks of tiny clothes before she could protest or ask what changed my mind, when just minutes before, I had been so excited about my potential costume. 

This is often the experience of plus-sized people who want to cosplay or dress up in costumes, unless they have the skill to make things themselves. Bummed as I was, I resigned myself to the fact that a tiny Star Trek getup wasn’t in the cards. 

A year or so later, I headed to Denver Pop Culture Con wearing a graphic tee of a favorite fandom and jean shorts. I told myself that since I was there for work, the outfit was more practical, but I snuck secret glances of envy at all the cool costumes, from high-priced looks to pieced-together compromises and brilliant, homemade creations. 

On my break, I wandered the aisles looking for comic books, art, and other goodies. I passed a costume booth and almost walked past, but was intrigued by their signs promising bigger sizes. Skeptically, I stepped in and started to browse. 

It wasn’t long before I found a golden, handmade, Original Series-style Star Trek dress in size 2XL. I sized it up, and it looked true to size, so I ducked off the floor and into a dressing room to test it out. 

Suddenly, I was no longer a late-20s editor at Pop Culture Con shopping around, but a futuristic space babe, stepping off the bridge after a shift next to the captain. With my hair pinned back and my cat-eye glasses, I imagined myself a science or communications officer flying through space at the speed of light. 

I bought the dress and wore it the rest of the day and to my event that evening, feeling size euphoria the whole time. Not only did I find a dress that fit, it fit flatteringly and looked authentic and cool. 

I wish I could remember the name of the place to give them a plug, but the moral of the story is this: having size options was the difference between me being silently crushed, my plans canceled before they began, and me feeling euphoric and making a purchase. 

And while I can’t speak from experience, I imagine people with disabilities and people of color feel the same way when accommodations are accessible or different skin tone options are represented. Inclusivity doesn’t just mean not excluding; it means actively including.