Comfort is the Great Body Image Disruptor

Why what you wear changes how you feel about your body. Plus, how reducing physical discomfort reduces body shame.

Last week I posted something simple on Substack: about how drastically our body image can affected by wearing comfortable clothing. It got a lot of traction, which made me realize how many of us are quietly struggling under the weight of tight waistbands, scratchy fabrics, and clothing that doesn’t move with us.

I’ve experienced this myself, and see it with clients…constantly. The smallest shift in fit can change the entire tone of our day.

Here is the original post:

Discomfort isn’t just physical.

Research on self-objectification and body surveillance shows that when we are hyper-aware of how our bodies look or feel, we experience more body dissatisfaction, shame, and anxiety about appearance.¹ Tight clothing, constant adjustment, or fabric that digs in keeps attention tethered to the body, fueling that cycle. It probably won’t come as a surprise that this heightened body monitoring can increase disordered eating behaviors—we’re driven to control or change our bodies in response to the discomfort and self-judgment we feel.

Though we’ve been taught to interpret physical discomfort as evidence that we care about our health, what it often does instead is pull us further away from attunement. Discomfort doesn’t build trust with the body; it just reinforces the belief that the body is a problem to fix. Over time, that mindset can fuel cycles of restriction, compensation, and self-criticism that look a lot more like shame than wellbeing.

Photo by Cristine Enero on Unsplash

Clothing is meant to fit the body you have today.

Not the one you think you should have. Not the one the world tells you to sculpt or shrink. Tight pants, restrictive bras, shoes that pinch…these things are not motivating, they are stressful. And as we know, experiencing chronic physical discomfort keeps the nervous system in a guarded state.

But wearing clothing that actually fits—the kind that allows us to breathe, bend, sit, and move freely—reduces that background noise and gives us back the mental space we deserve in other areas of our life (instead of it all being funneled into thoughts about our appearance). It allows us to inhabit our body instead of managing our body.

I have to make this clear, too: comfortable clothing does not need to mean sweatpants 24/7 (unless you want it to, because hi, it’s me, and I do). This isn’t about opting out of style or ‘professionalism’ or self-expression. You can approach comfort in workwear. You can choose blazers that allow your shoulders to move, trousers that don’t cut into your stomach when you sit, fabrics that don’t make you itch all day. When we widen our definition of comfort, we give ourselves more options, not fewer.

Comfort is not indulgence and it is certainly not “giving up.”

Contrary to what the diet industry wants us to believe about “body positivity” (which, to be clear, has been diluted into something indistinguishable from its original social justice and orientation)², finding ways to be kind to our body is not at odds with pursuing health. In fact, quite the opposite: self-compassion is what helps us care for ourselves in lasting, meaningful ways.

Here are some of the comments that came through on Substack and Instagram when I posted about comfortable clothing and its connection to our body image:

• Yes! My whole mood shifts when my clothing is uncomfy. If My waistband is digging into my stomach when I sit down or my bra band feels too tight, my whole day is off kilter. When I dress for comfort in loose fitting clothes, I feel amazing.

• Absolutely I so agree with you. I only wear clothes that feel good on my body. In fact, not only are comfortable, but are soft and make me feel loved.

• I've always struggled with a closet full of nothing to wear and have finally started looking for inspo on Pinterest, printing out outfits and sticking them on the inside of my closet door. One of them: Button-down shirt under a sweater. Today, for the first time, I tried it on and realised I fucking hate it. The thick layers, the buttons, the collar. At 44, I refuse to wear it.

• 100%! for me this has looked like sizing up multiple years in a row to help me remain stable in my recovery. sometimes I could squeeze into the old size, but the daily reminder of how much space I occupy just wasn't helpful. I thought I would be done sizing up when I first entered full recovery, but that was pretty naive haha! thankfully, it's gotten easier each year to accept that some of my old clothes don't fit. buying comfy and fun new pants makes the experience a LOT more enjoyable than trying to fit into the smallest possible size of the trendiest low rise jeans!!

• I recently bought workout leggings in my current size. Now I can enjoy movement and not berate my body the entire time for not fitting into leggings that are simply the wrong size for my body in its current form. Crazy that I waited so long to do this!

• Yes! This has probably helped my body image more than anything else.

• This is my mantra! It will change your whole perspective dressing yourself

I feel like maybe our barometer for what counts as comfy should be: would I dress my dog in this? [Photo by Helena Lopes on Unsplash]

Finally, I want to acknowledge something important: access matters. The ability to replace clothing, size up, or build a closet that feels good is a privilege. Fashion remains deeply non-inclusive. Extended sizes are limited, often more expensive, rarely available in-store, and frequently designed with less care. Many people are navigating financial constraints, strict dress codes, uniforms, or limited shopping access.

If finding comfortable clothing feels hard, frustrating, or out of reach, that is not a personal failure. It reflects an industry that still marginalizes larger bodies. While choosing comfort is radical, pushing for broader access to it is, too.

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So, I will say it one more time:

Comfort is respect.
Comfort is kindness.
In a culture that tells us we have to earn both, choosing comfort is radical, wise, and deeply important.

You deserve clothing that fits you. You deserve to be held with dignity. And you deserve to know that none of that is a delusion.

(plus, discomfort was never a health plan…)

For the comments:

- What do you think about all of this?
- Have you had any clothing / fashion-related epiphanies with your own body image?
- How do you approach comfort day-to-day?

And as a gentle reminder, please don’t forget to hit the “like” button and share this post if it was helpful. It truly makes a difference. Thank you!

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For more body image support…

Here are a few episodes and newsletters that dive deeper into reclaiming body compassion:

• Episode: On the myth of flattering and taking an anti-diet approach to clothing with Dacy Gillespie

• Newsletter: Feeling off in your body lately? This might be why.

• Newsletter: What makes a body healthy?

• Episode: What if I’m just uncomfortable being fat? with Sharon Maxwell and Edie Stark

• Episode: Making body image “less gross” with Deb Schachter, body image therapist

1. PMID: 29172061

2. Last week, the New York Times published an Opinion video titled “Confessions of a Former Body Positivity Influencer,” featuring Gabriella Lascano.

In seven cinematic minutes—complete with ominous music and dramatic zoom-ins—we’re told that body positivity has gone “too far,” that loving yourself at any size is naïve, even dangerous, and that pursuing weight loss is simply the way to care about your health.

This missed the mark on several levels, primarily by not bringing in any research on weight stigma, medical equity, and the original roots of the movement in dignity, healthcare access, housing equity, and wage protections (not “confidence” or “good vibes”). Anyway, Virgie Tovar wrote a great piece, as did Amanda Richards on fat hell.