It was in February near my 25th birthday when operation pantsuit clicked into gear. After admiring the language of body positivity from afar, seeing and reading genius fat women describe their similar struggles with certain clothing items but never truly considering myself part of the dialogue, I wanted to reprogram my concept of what plus size women could and couldn’t wear. I decided to order a pair of black disco pants from the then-shuttering American Apparel. When they arrived and I removed them from their thin packaging, I grew concerned. The fancy pants looked impossibly small and felt impossibly tight — but only for the first few minutes until I grew accustomed to the sensation of, well, wearing pants. The shimmery opaque fabric hugged my curves and I looked…good. Not decent, or passable, but good. My ass had never looked better, and it’s something I never would’ve thought to try had the shift in cultural conversation changed, had YouTubers like Chubby Gurl not felt the confidence to illustrate to other plus-size women how to style something so daring. But they were special occasion, night-on-the-town pants. I felt good in them, relying on them for parties and dates.