Hunter McGrady is known as Sports Illustrated Swimsuit’s “curviest model ever.” But this milestone and other achievements weren’t enough to keep haters away. Now, she speaks about how she deals with them.
Meet Hunter McGrady.
Hunter McGrady is an American model and body positivity advocate renowned for her work in the fashion industry. Her breakthrough moment came in 2017. She was selected through an open casting call to appear in the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue, making her debut as one of the magazine’s curviest models ever. This achievement marked a significant step in her career and highlighted her commitment to challenging conventional beauty standards.
McGrady’s influence extends beyond modeling. She is a vocal advocate for mental health, self-love, and body diversity. Through interviews, social media, and public appearances, she encourages people to embrace their bodies and reject unrealistic societal expectations.
The pivotal moment of her life.
McGrady’s career began as a model at the age of 15, during which she faced significant pressure to maintain a size two, leading to personal struggles with body image and self-acceptance. In a recent interview, she remembered that once she grasped the fact that being a slim fit wasn’t going to be her journey, she let herself live and be happy. Over time, she transitioned to plus-size modeling, finding her niche and voice in promoting body positivity and inclusivity within the fashion world.
It wasn’t an easy journey.
The Los Angeles native admitted that the road to acceptance was long, but therapy played a crucial role in her journey to self-love. She emphasized the importance of appreciating what our bodies can do rather than focusing on societal pressures to look a certain way.
“I think what Sports Illustrated is doing — celebrating all bodies — is so powerful. They’re doing the work. Especially right now when we’re entering this weird era, celebrating thinness,” McGrady noted.
But she keeps receiving negative comments about her body.
“No matter what you do, you’re going to get hate,” McGrady shrugged. “But you’re also going to get love. Negative comments or anybody who shames someone about their body? That’s so boring. Get something better to talk about.”
She emphasizes that criticism and negativity are inevitable, but so is support and appreciation. For McGrady, the act of body-shaming is tiresome and unproductive, reflecting more on the critic than the person being targeted. She encourages people to find more meaningful and positive topics of discussion, shifting focus away from superficial judgments.
Her message to plus-sized women.
McGrady stresses that self-love is the foundation of true confidence and resilience. Despite setbacks and challenges, the continuous effort to nurture self-love is crucial. Without it, external achievements and changes hold little significance.
“Confidence is not linear. It’s a climb,” she mentioned.
As the 60th-anniversary issue of Sports Illustrated Swimsuit hits newsstands, McGrady’s cover serves as a powerful reminder that beauty comes in all shapes and sizes. Through her journey and advocacy, she continues to inspire and promote a more inclusive and accepting view of beauty in the fashion industry and beyond.
I Allowed a Homeless Woman to Stay in My Garage—One Day I Walked in Unannounced and Was Shocked by What I Saw
I tapped the steering wheel, trying to shake the weight on my chest, when I spotted a disheveled woman digging through a trash can. I slowed down, drawn in by her grim determination.
She looked fragile yet fierce, fighting for survival. Without thinking, I pulled over, rolled down my window, and asked, “Do you need help?”
Her response was sharp but tired: “You offering?”
“I just saw you there,” I admitted, stepping out. “It didn’t seem right.”
“What’s not right is life,” she scoffed, crossing her arms. “You don’t strike me as someone who knows much about that.”
“Maybe not,” I replied, then asked if she had a place to stay.
“No,” she said, and I felt compelled to offer my garage as a temporary home. To my surprise, she accepted, albeit reluctantly.
Over the next few days, we shared meals and conversations. Lexi’s sharp wit broke through my loneliness, but I could sense her hidden pain.
One afternoon, I barged into the garage and froze. There, sprawled across the floor, were grotesque paintings of me—chains, blood, a casket. Nausea hit me.
That night, I confronted her. “What are those paintings?”
Her face went pale. “I didn’t mean for you to see them. I was just… angry.”
“So you painted me as a monster?” I demanded.
She nodded, shame in her eyes. “I’m sorry.”
I struggled to forgive her. “I think it’s time for you to go.”
The next morning, I helped her pack and drove her to a shelter, giving her some money. Weeks passed, and I felt the loss of our connection.
Then, a package arrived—another painting. This one was serene, capturing a peace I hadn’t known. Inside was a note with Lexi’s name and number.
My heart raced as I called her. “I got your painting… it’s beautiful.”
“Thank you. I didn’t know if you’d like it,” she replied.
“You didn’t owe me anything,” I said, reflecting on my own unfairness.
“I’m sorry for what I painted,” she admitted. “You were just… there.”
“I forgave you the moment I saw that painting. Maybe we could start over.”
“I’d like that,” she said, a smile evident in her voice.
We made plans to meet again, and I felt a flicker of hope for what could be.
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