I’ve considered writing about my weight/health/eating disorder history. I’ve considered it a lot, honestly. I think that is partially what made me stop writing my past blog, because it felt like the truth was out and all eyes were on me…staring at me as I took a bite of anything, giving me questioning glances before and after I returned from the restroom. Spoiler alert: I’m not vomiting up my food whenever I go to the rest room. In fact, I was seven months purge free and extremely proud of it.
Our culture is sickening. I’m tired of the obsession over the appearance of others. I’m sick and tired of the magazines giving ideas on how to lose weight. I’m mad at myself for ever involving myself in that culture and for wanting to be anyone but myself. I felt like a fraud for the longest time. Meeting beautiful, compassionate, artistic people in the fat community but also secretly doing anything I could to lose a few pounds. I was so jealous they could refer to themselves as fat and be proud of who they were, when I would sob if someone were to use it as an insult toward me. This past year I’ve decided to focus on my children, my husband, work, school, and myself. I’ve embraced the fat positive culture and I’ve found comfort in listening to body positivity through music (Lizzo) and movies (Shrill, Dumpli’). I found a local boxing gym and started taking classes just because I wanted to, with no real goal in mind but to meet people and have fun. I was in more pictures with my kids than I’ve ever been, and instead of cropping myself out of them, I posted them for the world to see. I was finally feeling whole again and not letting the binging/purging thoughts creep in. I started seeing a weight management doctor to discuss what medical reasons could be causing me to rapidly gain weight, fearing I could have more wrong than only my auto-immune disease, and I wanted to make sure we figured it out before any additional symptoms started.
But today I let some asshole get to me and wreck what I’ve been building.
Today I want to an appointment to have my knee evaluated to determine what my course of action is for my injury.
Today I woke up, and like most mornings lately, remembered immediately my dog died and had trouble breathing for a little bit.
Today I woke up and took my anxiety medication, got my kids ready for school, kissed my husband goodbye, dropped the kids off at daycare, and drove to the doctor’s office.
Today I declined standing on the scale. Not only because I had a doctor’s appointment two days ago and the number is clearly in my chart, but because it’s really none of this doctor’s damn business.
Today this doctor didn’t look at my chart other than to see what my BMI is. This doctor didn’t look at my knee at all, he looked at the size of my body.
Today this doctor made me cry and feel rage.
Today I received an appointment summary which consisted of three pages of notes on how to lose weight, without a single mention of my knee injury.
Today I relapsed.
Our society is flawed. Our society is convinced that fat is the worst thing you can be. Who cares if you’re an asshole, right? At least you’re not fat. Our society has decided the shape of someone’s body determines their health. To hell with what is going on inside of that person’s body, they can evaluate my health with their glance. Unless you speak to that person, know them, know their struggles, know their fears, know what makes them happy, know if they have symptoms of anything, you have no idea what that person’s health looks like.
If you’re one who is trying like hell to lose weight, restricting yourself from things you love, trying to impress others just to look good in a bathing suit, please be gentle with yourself. You have one life to live. Live it for yourself and not for this flawed society.