The Therapist's Body: Intersectional Feminism, Taylor Swift, Diet Culture, and Client Comfort
Last weekend, some members of my family and I went on an unbelievable trip to Vancouver, Canada to see the snow, experience the ferry boats, and of course, to see Taylor Swift in her very last run of the Eras Tour. My aunt and cousin were some of the lucky few that were able to get us actual tickets to Vancouver night 3 (bragggg) and I could not be more grateful for it. The trip was incredible, the concert was hands down the most amazing production of music and entertainment I have ever seen, and the mountains were absolutely gorgeous. There was however, one situation that has had me thinking and processing over the last week, and it occurred in the tour merchandise line.
Like the hardcore swifties my cousin and I are (also shout out to gaylors), we decided to wake up early Saturday morning of Vancouver night 2 and wait in the pop up merchandise line to get the infamous blue crewneck sweatshirt. This was about 5 hours of standing in the cold Canadian rain. By hour 2 we had discussed our die hard surprise songs, by hour 3, we had decided to get matching tattoos, by hour 4 we knew what those tattoos would be, and by hour 5 we were minutes away from the table and were dead silent and focused. Throughout the 5 hours standing in line, you tend to also talk to and get to know the other fans around you. In front of us was a mother and adult daughter who were very chatty and tended to make small talk with us throughout the wait time. I began to notice that the mother constantly would touch my arm, rub my arm, or grab my clothing when laughing or saying something to me. Most people who know me know I am not a touchy feely person, so naturally I began to distance myself from this person. However over the next 5 hours, constant touching as well as references to sizing when it came to the merchandise, continued to occur. I was stuck because no way was I getting out of line at that point.
Finally when we approached the table, with the mother and daughter next to us, we were able to ask for the clothing items we wanted and get them in the sizes we preferred (and yes we did both get a blue crewneck, also braggggg). Once purchasing our items, the mother turns to me and asks me what size sweatshirt I got, when I replied what seemed to be a smaller size than what she decided to get, her response to me was “oh but I like mine oversized.” It was in that moment that I realized that the last 5 hours of touching and commenting were actually just this woman projecting her own insecurities onto me and my body.
Now many people who know me and have experienced me in my body, may read this and think to themselves, or feel called to actually tell me, that that was not what that woman was doing. You may be thinking, “how could she? Ellen isn’t fat!” To which I say I am a person in a larger body size. I am naturally curvy, I have what you may call the German birthing hips. Telling me I am not fat is actually labeling the term “fat” as bad or wrong, and is inherently fat-phobic. I am a highly active person, I am a relatively healthy person with obvious balance, so I may not fit the description in your mind as what a “fat” person is. However, I do actually fit the factual description. And that is okay, because I do not believe it to be bad or wrong.
What does not feel okay, is this woman’s projection and the use of my body to make her feel better about her own. Unfortunately, this happens to me all the time. Constantly. With clients, family members, friends, doctors, and strangers. While I have yet to really work it out in my personal life, I have come to really understand it in my professional life and the work I do with womxn in my therapy practice.
As a trauma-informed, Health at Every Size (HAES)-aligned therapist, my work is grounded in principles of compassion, safety, and empowerment. I have been reflecting deeply on how my body—specifically its size—has influenced the experiences of my clients. In recent months, several clients have expressed feeling safer, more comfortable, and more understood in session with me because of my physical appearance. This is a profound dynamic, both beautiful and complicated, that I approach with gratitude and critical awareness through an intersectional feminist lens.
The Pros: Safety, Connection, and Representation
Therapy is a space where clients bring their most vulnerable selves. For those who exist in larger bodies or have been harmed by the pervasive forces of diet culture, the body size of a therapist can matter—a lot. When clients see me, a person who visibly does not conform to narrow societal ideals of thinness, it can foster an immediate sense of safety. My body becomes a nonverbal signal: This is not a space where you have to shrink yourself—physically or emotionally.
Clients have shared that they feel:
Less judged: In a culture where fatphobia runs rampant, the perception that I hold lived experience around body shame or marginalization creates an unspoken bond of understanding. For clients who have internalized harmful messages about their bodies, my existence becomes a counter-narrative.
More seen: Representation matters. The therapeutic relationship is inherently shaped by power dynamics, but when clients see themselves reflected in me, some of that power imbalance is softened. The session becomes less about "expert vs. client" and more about two humans meeting in shared understanding.
Empowered to take up space: HAES and body liberation encourage the idea that every body deserves care and dignity. My own unapologetic embodiment of my size reinforces this message—not only for my clients, but for myself. My body communicates that healing does not require shrinking.
This dynamic, while powerful, comes with immense responsibility. It requires me to continually interrogate my biases, embody ethical care, and hold space for complexity.
The Cons: Diet Culture, Projection, and the Burden of Visibility
While my body size has become a source of safety for some clients, it is also important to name the ways diet culture complicates this dynamic. Diet culture, rooted in fatphobia and systems of oppression, influences how bodies are perceived and what meanings are projected onto them—mine included.
1. Projection and Expectations
Clients may unconsciously project their beliefs about bodies onto me. Some assume that because I exist in a larger body, I must share their struggles, traumas, or frustrations with body image. While this can create rapport, it also risks erasing my individuality and centering my body in ways that distract from the client’s process.
Conversely, there have been moments when my clients’ own internalized fatphobia arises—whether through comments, assumptions, or microaggressions. In these instances, I must hold my own emotional experience while guiding my client with compassion and curiosity, never shaming them for the biases they have been socialized into.
2. The Burden of Embodiment As a therapist committed to HAES and fat liberation, I believe in the inherent worth of all bodies—including mine. And yet, I still live in a world that devalues bodies like mine. The very visibility that creates safety for some clients can feel like a burden on days when my own relationship with my body is complicated. I am not exempt from the effects of systemic fatphobia, and I have to ensure that I am tending to my own body image work outside the therapy room.
3. The Double Bind of Diet Culture Diet culture’s reach is insidious, and even within the HAES framework, clients may still express shame, longing, or frustration about their bodies. In these moments, my body becomes a silent presence in the room: If I accept her body, does that mean I have to accept mine?
This is a painful reality. I hold space for clients to process these thoughts without centering myself or my body—and yet, I cannot ignore the tension diet culture creates. My existence as a visibly larger therapist challenges societal ideals, but it also means I become a mirror for clients wrestling with their own relationships to weight, size, and self-worth.
Navigating These Complexities
An intersectional feminist lens reminds me to honor the interconnected systems at play: fatphobia, racism, ableism, and sexism all shape how bodies are perceived and valued. When clients express comfort with me because of my size, I see this not only as an individual experience, but as part of a larger resistance to harmful cultural norms. It speaks to the need for more diverse, embodied therapists who challenge the thin ideal and offer expansive models of healing.
At the same time, I hold humility. My body may create safety for some, but it is not a universal experience—and it should not have to be. True liberation would mean that all bodies, regardless of size, are seen as equally worthy of care, respect, and belonging.
Final Reflections: The Gift and Responsibility of Embodied Work
As a trauma-informed therapist, I know that healing happens in relationship—and relationships include the body. My size has become a part of the therapeutic container, for better and for worse, and I approach this reality with care and intention.
The pros and cons of this dynamic are not about me as an individual, but about the systems we navigate and resist together. My clients’ comfort in my presence is a gift—one I do not take lightly. It is also a reminder of the work that remains: to dismantle diet culture, honor the worth of every body, and create spaces where clients (and therapists) are free to show up fully, without shame.
For those of us doing embodied work in a disembodied culture, this journey is both deeply personal and profoundly collective. Together, we move toward a vision of healing where bodies are not judged, but celebrated—not as the problem, but as part of the solution.