Time for a serious talk…
Today we’re going to talk about a touchy subject with a level of candidness that some may find uncomfortable. For those of you that have trouble with my honest assessment of the treatment/judgment of “plus-sized” people, strong language and other personal things, here’s a picture of a fish:
Okay, now that we’re alone…
There is a subject that is near and dear to my heart. It’s something that has affected most of my life. It is something that I feel strongly about. A subject that is often shied away from in polite circles. At least when there are any fat people around.
::gasp:: There. I said it.
So, let’s get real. According to the BMI scale, I am obese. This is something that I never talk about with anyone other than my husband. It’s too painful and entirely too personal. It’s an Issue (intentional capitalization for emphasis) I deal with every day. Every day that I have to look in a mirror and hate what I see. Every time that I see little to no results to weeks of steady effort. Every time that I see the judgment in people’s eyes. Every time I hear a perfectly beautiful and healthy woman bemoan her weight. It’s not okay.
All of my life I’ve been fed bullshit or been looked down on. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been fed the line “But you’re not fat… (whiny voice)” by someone I’ve called on being judgmental about the weight of someone not present. I guess I’m somehow magically exempted from your disdain for fat people. Really? Don’t buy it. But you have just made me wonder what you say about me when I’m not around.
But really, I digress. There is a point to this rambling and self-indulgent post. Lately, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. I’ve been chubby since I was eight or nine and that can’t possibly be my fault. And on top of that, I was recently diagnosed with a disorder (not life threatening, just inconvenient) that *TADA* has a symptom of obesity. In fact, according to the Mayo Clinic, women with said disorder are twice as likely to be obese when compared with women that don’t have it. Joy. In addition to this lovely and depressing bit of information, one of the side effects the medication that I’m taking to regulate said disorder is *TADA* weight gain. FML.
And I just love the nagging by my new doctor when I’ve gained a few pounds since I started on the medication. It’s a lot to take, lady! I barely know you and this is how we’re gonna play it? Just walk and watch what I eat? Oh, really? Is it really that simple? Do those two things and the weight will just melt off, eh? Thank you! No, really! Thank you! I’m a big, fat idiot and I HAVEN’T FUCKING TRIED THAT ALREADY! Also, until you’ve exercised with the weight of a small person added to your own, don’t talk to me about easy.
Don’t pander to me. I’m intelligent and educated and this is the one (well, not the only) damn thing in my life that I can’t seem to conquer. And that, my freinds, is killing me. Ever damn day that I wake up and I look in that mirror and see the person that is not really me staring back out of a doughy face, I’ve already lost for that day. It’s over. The battle is lost and I can’t even try. If I can’t get over this one, apparently so insignificant thing, how in the world can I possibly do all of the big things that I want to do with my life? If it’s so fucking simple, so fucking easy, why is the weight-loss industry so huge? If it’s just that easy, what the fuck kind of moron am I? What kind of useless waste of breath am I, if I can achieve something so “simple’?
I know I must sound bitter and whiny to some of you, but this is the Issue that has plagued me for as long as I can remember. And you know what? I’m sick of it. I’m sick of doubting my worth over something so trivial. I’m sick of the treatment and blame that is heaped on people over something so monumentally personal. For some, the weight is a defense mechanism or eating is a coping mechanism. For others, it really is out of their control due to something wrong with their physiology. For still others, they struggle with an addiction to food. And yes, my fair readers, over-eating is an addiction just like any other. Just like drugs or alcohol or tobacco. I would beg the world at large to treat it as such and to show some compassion to people that judge themselves far worse than they ever could, but, I’ve seen the rotten treatment of drug or alcohol addicts too many times to assume that people would show any understanding of something outside of their experience.
Please, don’t be a dick. Thank your lucky stars that you didn’t lose the genetic lottery but don’t look down on people who did. Don’t look at me like I’m an abomination when I’m ordering the same damn thing you are but it’s wrong from me to eat it since I’m a fat cow and you “don’t usually eat things like this”. Eating out ::snicker:: is something we all indulge in. Don’t be all high and mighty. You do it too. It’s our national pastime. How many times have you had quality time turn into “Let’s go eat fatty food!” time? Thought so.
I’m sorry to have gone on so long, but I really needed to vent some of this garbage that poisons my heart. The mistreatment of others in any capacity breaks my heart and the pain and suffering and even persecution of the overweight is no different. Thin does not always equal healthy. I’ve known many thin people with high cholesterol, high blood pressure and other disorders associated with being overweight, while, with the exception of my newly discovered disorder (which is thought to be caused by genetics), my obese ass is healthy as a horse, thank you very much! Please, don’t pretend that the dirty looks that are thrown my way are out of concern for my health. I don’t buy it.
Okay, okay. Really. I should stop. Just know that I don’t share this for sympathy for myself. I really don’t. But I do hope that in some small way sharing my story might help shift someone’s perspective about something they think they know.
This is my burden. What’s yours?