History Comments that Are Becoming A Post
This is some context for another post I want to write about Fat Joy and Health. But here you go! (Some of this you’ve already read, for sure, but it came up recently in a group I’m in and I thought I’d share.)
1. I was three or four years old, the first time I was told, as I reached for some food item, ‘You don’t need that.’ I was taught from that young age that my body was untrustworthy and something to be controlled. From then on, food was frequently taken away from me or refused or judged.
2. I went to Weight Watchers for the first time when I was 11. And not only was an 11-year-old girl welcome there, but there was a PREGNANT woman there.
3. I ate soup that was purely vegetables, no broth, just the juice of tomatoes, for weeks one summer in junior high or early high school time.
4. I was seriously bullied for years and years and years. From elementary school, where I learned, “Fat girls just look fatter than big boys,” to junior high where I was asked when I was going to have my baby. Or told by my French teacher that she guessed it was okay that I read books while walking down the hall because “Anyone you hit would just bounce off anyway. Or the hells of high school.
5. And yet, as you said, I look at photos of myself, and I think, WTF?! My body was frankly unremarkable. I was active and ran around with a whole clutch of neighborhood friends throughout my childhood.
6. When I hit 12 years old, I had my first obvious mental health crisis. I went into a deep and life-threatening depression. I first remember being depressed and suicidal when I was six, but this was the first time others noticed and I tried to get help. And I began to sneak food out of our pantry in my quest to soothe and numb myself. I gained a substantial amount of weight for the first time.
7. So I dieted and gained and dieted and gained for years, decades. After a last stint wth Weight Watchers in my early thirties, I decided I wouldn’t ever diet again. Except then I did the Whole 30 and “The Plan.,” and I gained more weight. It was a horrific struggle. Up and down and up and down, with friends concern-trolling me all the way along, asking me how my diet of the month was going, remarking on me in complimentary ways if they thought I had lost weight. And all throughout this period, I avoided seeing old friends or teachers. I didn’t want to disappoint them.
8. Eventually, I began to embrace a fat-aceptance and then fat-liberation stance. (Thank you, Marilyn Wann’s book, “Fat! So?”) And around that same time, I went on a psych drug combo on which I gained 150 pounds in something like a year.
9. I will never not be fat. If I lose 100 pounds, I will still be among the biggest people in my circle of friends, and that’s okay.
10. I didn’t go to the doctor or dentist for over ten years because I was so sick of being treated like shit. Though the not going also left me feeling ashamed and worthless…(I now have a UNICORN of a pcp. Unbelievable. If she ever leaves her practice, I’ll follow her to the moon!)
I hurt my knees in falls and running and all kinds of things probably dozens of times in my teens and twenties. I never-ever saw a doctor for any of those injuries.
11. I told my amazing current PCP that I was interested in considering weight loss, that dieting is what got me my girlish figure, and that yo-yoing wasn’t good for my heart or my sense of self. She was fine with that.
12. Then, ten years into seeing her, after I had heard about GLP-1 agonists, we talked about my possibly going on Ozempic. It was a hard conversation. She understood my commitment to caring for my body in a loving, not-controlling way. And she understood the level of commitment going on one of these drugs responsibly carries with it. It was not a decision I made lightly.
13. So now, here I am on this journey (I hate that word for this, but it works) of my body changing in ways I’m inviting.
14. My mobility is drastically improved from my illness (and clinically inappropriate care for a fat person) of 2 years ago. I am in aqua physical therapy and going to the pool 3-4 times a week and feeling GREAT about it. I can walk up and down stairs again — which I couldnt’ do for the last few years, if there were more than three or they didn’t have a railing.
Only SOME of that is related to there being less fat on my body. It’s complicated because I also had severe edema throughout my body that led to my health crisis of 2022. Some of it is related to my ongoing commitment to move my body as I can and as feels good and strong.
15. I cannot deny, however, that when one is smaller, if one is also working to get stronger, moving around is much easier. Steps. Endurance (esp in the pool — walking any distance is still accompanied by back pain). Sex. Getting around my house. Going to a store and shopping for the first time in years.
So increased mobility is in a positive feedback loop. I’m getting stronger and working to get stronger still AND my body is changing.
16. Furthermore, I want pretty bras! (Good Goddess, do I want pretty bras!) I want to wear the clothes that are consonant with my femme gender! I want to fly to the East Coast to see my family! I want to fit in chairs with arms! I want to sit in booths that are bolted down at restaurants and not feel as though I am being cut in two!
17. AND I hate that things are so inaccessible. I hate that the whole fucking culture ignores the suffering and needs of fat people. These things I want for myself should not be inaccessible to me or to anyone else who needs them. I will always work for the rights, needs, and beauty of fat people. Always.
So it’s complicated — and it also pisses me off that my 5’10”, less-than-200-pound friend could get Wegovy covered by her insurance, but I couldn’t. Insurance is fucked up. And who has access to what is fucked, what is covered, and how much. People with diabetes? People who are “pre-diabetic” (a diagnosis in search of an illness?)? People whose BMIs (another super-fucked idea) are above 30? People whose weight interacts with disability and inaccessibility? How does one decide what to do?
