Nolose stands for the National Organisation of Lesbians of Size.

It says on the Nolose website that the organisation is dedicated to ending fat oppression and creating a fat queer community and culture. As far as I know, they do this by hosting an annual conference and by affiliation with a number of other events.

I first heard about Nolose a couple of years ago but the idea of it never made much of an impression on me. Here's where I demonstrate exactly how shallow I am: their website looked a bit naff; their non-ironic use of the word "womyn" and the expression "of size" turned me off in a major way; I'm not American, so National means little to me and there was no evidence that Nolose was interested in attracting an international membership; oh yes, and I don't identify as a lesbian. I just assumed that maybe this whole thing was not for me.

It took a sparkling bit of graphic design and a tiny bit of persuasion to change my mind. I was snooping around other people's LiveJournals (an online journal community) and I came across the Tomato Lady. Someone must have had a brainwave because gone was all the dreary, dated, pedestrian and overly-symbolic lesbian imagery and here was a new Nolose logo: a gorgeous, high-kicking, shiny, colourful, ripe and round Tomato Lady. Now that I could relate to - big time. I was sold. Then I messaged 'becca Widom, a member of the Nolose board who had posted the image on her LiveJournal, she said: "Yay! Come! Come! We want you!" and before you know it I was checking air fares and working out a budget that would enable me to go to their 2004 conference in glamorous New Jersey.

Okay, so there were a few other things besides the Tomato Lady and 'becca's words of encouragement that made me want to go. I knew a handful of my friends would be there. Friends is a bit of a weak word, these are people whose thoughts and actions - hello FaT GiRL - revolutionised my life, and nearly ten years after my first encounter I wanted to see these people of my heart together again under one roof. I knew Nolose would be a great opportunity to meet new people and encounter new ideas because, in my opinion, fat dykes and their allies have generally been the people who are at the forefront of thinking about fat identity and culture. Speaking of which, I knew the conference would be a fertile recruiting ground for Chubsters. Lastly, I simply wanted to be amongst a bunch of incredible fat people.

The short version of what happened next: I persuaded Kay to come with me. We turned it into a longer holiday, Kay's first trip to the States, travelling on the last day that plane tickets were cheap. We decided to do a Chubsters workshop at the conference, to give ourselves a purpose for being there. We went. The next thing I knew, it was a hot July afternoon, we'd just driven in from Atlantic City, and now we were standing in front of the Wyndham in Mount Laurel, a totally generic business hotel by the side of a motorway. And then three days passed by in a blur.

What happens at a Nolose conference? There are plenary sessions, where the hundred or so delegates are together in a big room, talking about things in groups, through a panel, individually. One of these gatherings involved a keynote speaker who, this year, was Nomy Lamm. Nomy spoke about her work with Phat Camp, about new directions in fat activism, about the connections between fat politics and other kinds of radical activity. She played her accordion and sang Fat Bottomed Girls (and later, after some friendly heckling, Freebird), making us weep with happiness at the simple truth underlying these corny, ridiculous old songs. I was bawling!

Then there are workshops which, this year, included shared discussions about fat and disability, transgender issues, alternative sexuality, fat culture in film, plus participatory sessions: dance, bondage, body painting, and Chubsters. I know I've missed many out, there were seemingly endless workshop possibilities.

Our workshop was poorly scheduled for early on Sunday morning but the people came, even after only three hours sleep. Kay and I facilitated, telling people how The Chubsters came about and encouraging people to join us and help develop new Chubster policy. These American Chubsters, let me tell you, they are not shy, they are righteous, they don't give a shit about looking pretty for the camera and they came out looking fucking unbelievably great. High-kicking, screaming "Up against the wall motherfuckers!" they invented real and tough Chubster personas for themselves, and pushed the Chubster idea further and further and further. Tubby, wearing a nappy made out of a sheet, initiated everyone and took photographs. It was the fattest fun I've ever had, such a homecoming, so totally inspiring and cool. In over a decade of activism I have never seen fat people being as completely hott and fearless and brilliant as this. The verve! The imagination! The lawlessness! It was truly a highlight of my fat life. A couple of times I got so overwhelmed and excited that I had to leave the room when nobody was looking and find somewhere quiet to hyperventilate and do a mini dance of triumph, and blub a little bit too.

Nolose evenings start with food and entertainment. My favourites: Pretty Porky and Pissed Off and their friends King Size performed a tapdance routine to Eminem, giving everyone the finger. Creamy Goodness played a wicked and delightful set that made my heart sing. Then we danced and then, when the other hotel guests had disappeared, we took of our clothes and took over the hotel's pool.

Here is the scene: one hundred naked fatties dive-bombing the pool, playing beachball, overflowing the hot tub, parading, showing off their new bikinis, showing off their synchronised swimming moves, flirting like crazy, bobbing, chatting, floating, swimming around carelessly and laughing until their faces hurt. This is what utopian dreams are made of.

Flesh.

Party.

Kay and I were surprised by the complaints that we heard. I guess in a large group of fussy American lesbians there will always be the people whose pleasure in life is the complaint. It's too hot in here, too cold, the food is wrong, my room is wrong, you're oppressing me. There were the inevitable and tiresome clashes between the old and the new. We witnessed some titanic egos forcing their way onto centre stage, true divas surrounding themselves with pointless drama and tears.

We shared the hotel with other people, including Rod Stewart's backing band, oddly enough. Some of us heard a bunch of dullard teens bitching about us and staring at us sullenly, but that was all, I think. The hotel staff were polite, professional, lovely actually, despite the fact that we may have broken one of their lifts by trying to cram one too many chubbers into it.

Some people were obsessed by the fact that we are English, but they weren't interested in anything aside from our accents or where we were from. They didn't want to know, for example, what our lives are like, what brought us to Nolose, what might be happening outside of their enclaves in the US. As is often the case, many did not know how London related to Britain, or Europe. That brand of insular American parochialism is irritating at best, but dismaying in this context where you hope that people might know better.

But there were also people who had heard of me, who knew the work I had done and whose own work looks out into the world rather than inwards. Katie LeBesco, whose new work is stunning and incisive, shook my hand and told me I rocked (scream!). And it was pure bloody pleasure to see my friend, the visionary author Susan Stinson, read from her beautiful new novel 'Venus of Chalk.'

From all the bullshit about the alleged global obesity epidemic that's clogging up the airwaves, to the occasional twinges I harbour of feeling like a monster amongst my peers because I am fat, fat hatred is a presence in my life, no matter what I do to avoid it. Nolose was a powerful experience for me. I feel so thrilled to think that fat culture is barrelling along at such a rate. It's taken years for me to get over being burnt out after my first book was published, and disillusioned with things that were happening in the UK. But I feel so encouraged and hopeful now that I've had a peek into that other world. It was wonderful.

And then it was over. We drove Susan Stinson to Philadelphia for a reading, and then we gave some other Nolose gals a lift to their place in West Philly. And then it was really over, and we were on the road again.

The Chubsters

Susan Stinson

Big Fat Love