Can we all agree that finding good plus-size activewear is unnecessarily difficult? Because at this point, I have opinions. Lots of them. The goal of workout clothes is pretty simple. They should stay where you put them. Apparently, that's asking too much. Let's start with leggings. They're either too tight, too loose, too short, or they slowly begin their descent toward your knees the second you start moving. If they're not sliding down...They're rolling down. And there is n

I'll be honest...yoga has humbled me. There's something about walking into a class and realizing that your body doesn't move the way you wish it did. Maybe it's the tight hips, the stiff hamstrings, the balance that seems to disappear the second you're asked to stand on one foot, or simply the realization that flexibility doesn't magically appear because you want it to. As a plus-size woman, being a beginner felt intimidating. I worried about whether I would be able to keep u

I have a confession to make. I'm just not a necklace person. I've tried. I really have. I own a nice little collection that I keep telling myself I'll wear more often. But every time I put one on, the same thing happens. It starts irritating my skin. Or I get hot and suddenly it's sticking to me. Or it twists around backward every five minutes. Or somehow it finds its way into my hair and creates a tiny knot that takes half the day to untangle. It's exhausting. Now don't get

There are very few places capable of destroying your confidence faster than a dressing room. And...I think dressing room designers need to answer for their crimes. First, there's the lighting. Who decided fluorescent lighting was the best way to evaluate clothing? I have yet to meet a single human being who looks better under dressing room lighting. The lighting somehow highlights things you didn't even know existed. Suddenly you're noticing shadows, creases, and angles that

I used to wear bodycon dresses all the time in college. Back then, I was smaller. I had what society would probably call the "right kind" of curves. The kind people compliment. The kind that fit neatly into the plus-size fashion narrative that says curves are acceptable—as long as they're in the right places. I never thought twice about putting on a bodycon dress. Then I gained weight. My body changed. My arms got softer. My stomach got rounder. My shape shifted. And somewher

I don't need someone who loves me despite my size or because of my size. I want someone who loves me enough to see everything else too.

For years, I didn't choose dresses because they were cute. I chose them because they covered something. My legs. My arms. Sometimes both. If a dress was maxi length, even better. If it had three-quarter sleeves? Sold. Not necessarily because I loved the style, but because it checked the boxes I thought it needed to check. Would it hide my legs? Would it cover my arms? Would it make me look smaller? Would it help me blend in? Those were the questions guiding my shopping decisi

I recently attended an afternoon tea, and as I looked around the room, I realized something familiar. I was the biggest person there. For a moment, I became hyperaware of myself. My body. My outfit. The way I sat in my chair. The tiny sandwiches and pastries on the table. The voice in my head started whispering all the things that plus-size women are taught to think in situations like this. People are watching what you're eating. Don't take too much. Be careful what you order

Sometimes I think about how much time I wasted in high school worrying about my body. Not taking care of it. Not appreciating it. Not celebrating it. Worrying about it. I spent so much energy trying to figure out how to be smaller. How to sit smaller. How to dress smaller. How to eat smaller. How to exist smaller. Every school dance, every class photo, every club activity, every trip out with friends seemed to come with the same underlying question: How can I make people noti

If you were to look through old photos of me, you'd probably notice a pattern. Cardigan. Cardigan. Ruana. Cardigan. Different color, same concept. For years, a cardigan was my go-to layer. It didn't matter if it was 95 degrees outside or if I was headed to class, work, church, or dinner. Chances are, I had a cardigan on. At the time, I convinced myself it was because they were practical. And they are. They're versatile. They're comfortable. They go with everything. But if I'm

I have 30 tattoos as of today. Some of them have deep meaning. Some of them commemorate important moments in my life. Some represent people I love. And some? Some are simply because I thought they looked cool. And honestly, I think that's enough of a reason. As a plus-size woman, I've noticed that people often have opinions about tattoos on larger bodies. Will they stretch? What if you gain weight? What if you lose weight? What if you don't like it when you're older? Can you

Do Clothes Really Need to Be Flattering? No. There, it has been said. For years, I believed every outfit had to be "flattering." Every shopping trip, magazine article, and fashion tip seemed to revolve around the same goal: looking thinner. Wear dark colors because they're slimming. Avoid horizontal stripes. Accentuate your waist. Hide your stomach. Lengthen your legs. The message was clear: clothes weren't meant to help me express myself, they were meant to help me disguise

I almost didn't buy it. You know that moment when you're scrolling online, see an outfit you love, add it to your cart, and then immediately start talking yourself out of it? "Where would I even wear that?" "Maybe it's too much." "Will it look good on me?" "What if I don't have the confidence to pull it off?" I've had that conversation with myself more times than I can count. For years, I treated fashion like something I had to earn. I thought certain styles belonged to other

For years, I convinced myself there were swimsuits for people like me and swimsuits for everyone else. As a plus-size woman, I thought my only option was a one-piece with maximum coverage and minimum attention. Every summer, I searched for a swimsuit that would somehow make me look smaller, flatter, or more acceptable. I wasn't shopping for something I loved...I was shopping for something that hid me. The message was everywhere: cover your arms, hide your stomach, wear black,

Saturday was Pride, and I always find it so inspiring to see so many people come together to celebrate love, authenticity, and community. There is something powerful about being surrounded by people who are unapologetically themselves and who support others in doing the same. Pride is a reminder that everyone deserves to be seen, valued, and celebrated for exactly who they are. The joy, creativity, and sense of belonging that fill the day are truly unmatched. Walking through

Hi! My name is Chelsea... As a kid, I wore whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted. The brighter, bolder, and more outlandish, the better. Fashion was fun, creative, and a way to express myself. But somewhere along the way, that started to feel wrong. Because I was never skinny, I began to believe there were rules I had to follow. Big tops. Skinny jeans. Cold-shoulder shirts. One-piece swimsuits. It felt like my body determined what I was allowed to wear instead of what I actual