Origin of Secrets and Silk

I’m not planning on selling lingerie. In fact, I think a company has since come along and is now selling silk robes with the same domain name. So we aren’t affiliated (although if they want to give me a dm, I’m down).
I came up with the name years ago when I was still fully entrenched in the mindset that only thin people with abs could wear silk and be sexy. So I would see an ad or be browsing online and fantasize about who I could be when I lost 180 lbs and grew another 6 inches.


I planned to buy matching bras and underwear all in silk.
I was going to have silk robes and wear coordinated pajamas.
It was going to be my secret.


I pictured myself in my work jeans and flannel/hoodies with lace underneath, and it was going to be a secret. I imagined whispering in silk sheets. But it wasn’t an attainable goal. Even in my imagination, fantasy me in silk was a mannequin. Not because I lacked imagination, but because I couldn’t figure out how to mentally morph my body shape into the shape I thought deserved anything delicate.
I didn’t grasp how sad it was.


Anyone can wear silk.
Coordinated lingerie doesn’t require 6-pack abs.

I stopped my pattern on “dieting” (which was actually yo-yo dieting and vicious cycles of restriction and exercise) in late 2018. I had joined an online support group all about “long-term sustainable lifestyle changes.” I didn’t get much from it, but I was still trying to do the “right thing” and shrink my body however I could. Oddly at the same time, I was swimming in the fat acceptance movement on Instagram, and my mind was blown. Here were people with actual bodies: fat bodies, disabled bodies, fit and big bodies. These people were out in public spaces wearing silk and spilling secrets. It was revolutionary to me. I learned about the fat scale (https://fluffykittenparty.com/2021/06/01/fategories-understanding-smallfat-fragility-the-fat-spectrum/) and had a name for the stigmatization I felt every day. I recognized how fatphobia was driving so many of my early choices. I acknowledged how trapped I felt in a world where I was being judged for every bite of food, every calorie I didn’t burn off on a treadmill. (Even if that judgment was in my own mind).

I wanted to feel like a complete person.
Unfortunately, I didn’t know how to do it. It seemed like the places I looked to for support (support groups/podcasts) were just as obsessed with bodies and food as I was. (Although they were on opposing ends of the spectrum: one side was dedicated to shrinking bodies and the other embracing bodies as they are and the politics therein). It rankled, though, because I didn’t want to obsess about the food I was eating, the volume, the servings, the time of day. I wanted (want) to not be obsessed with my body. Wanted to enjoy where it could take me not to obsess over every flap of skin or bulge. I wanted (want) to move past having my body and my fatness be the defining feature of my character.

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