I never wanted to be in this boat. In fact, I’ve spent most of my life since 12 years old obsessing over not being in this boat, but never doing anything to derail the train I was on. How stupid is that? Having all the power in the world to prevent gaining weight, but doing absolutely nothing to stay healthy, slowly watching the scale creep up. It’s like I thought some magical health fairy would come and make me skinny while I slept. Well I’m finally awake now, and I’m fat as ever.
I didn’t want to be fat, even typing that word makes my insides shutter. The F word to me doesn’t rhyme with duck. The F word to me is Fat, and I think it should be eliminated from the book of adjectives to describe another person. To me, that word is almost equal to the derogatory nature of the N word, or that four letter C word. When people use it to describe someone, it breaks my heart, and I can only imagine how many people have used it to describe me. Maybe I’m more sensitive to it, because deep down, I know it is my reality. Maybe the stigma of being fat in today’s society has amplified the shame I feel for being fat. Who am I kidding, maybe isn’t the right word. Those are definite. Fat is a derogatory word because society uses it in a derogatory way. It’s like nails on a chalk board to me.
The sad thing is people sling it as an insult, knowing that the recipient will feel bad about themselves, no matter how skinny they are in reality. Skinny girls calling healthy girls fat, healthy girls calling curvy girls fat, and so on and so forth. Not to mention men that call women fat---that’s a whole other ball game. It’s the ultimate insult. And that is where the shame comes into play for people like me. Other people use fat as a word to insult someone, hurt their feelings, while people use it as a word to describe me---and not always in an insulting way. What makes others cry, is my every day. It’s a harsh reality to know you are fat, rather than someone just calling you fat in a petty argument.
Anyways, here I am, knowing I am fat, but doing nothing about it. I realized there was a problem when I started worrying about the MOST ridiculous things; everyday things that never phased me before, but are now of constant concern. Hopefully nobody invites me on a trip anytime soon, I’m deathly afraid I won’t fit into the ever decreasing seat sizes on planes. Do you know how hard it is to pretend I HATE rollercoasters, when in reality I want SO badly to jump on? Too bad the last time I tried to get on my favorite ride, the operator couldn’t get the seat to buckle---in FRONT of my hot date. It was horrific. Ex-nay on the amusement parks. Every time I go to a restaurant, I am terrified that I won’t fit into the booth, so I have eliminated delicious restaurants from my list of go-to places, knowing that their booths will be a tight squeeze. It breaks my heart knowing I literally look at booths and try to pick the side with the most wiggle room, before anyone else can sit down and take it. Movie theaters? I hope their armrests go up so I can pretend to cuddle with my boyfriend, but in reality, my hips just need a little extra room. Hockey games? The last time I went the chair dug into my leg so much that I had a bruise for two weeks after. Taxis? If we have four people, we can still fit into any regular taxi, but I always lie and say we have 5 people, that way I won’t have to squish everyone in the backseat with my girth. Any chair with an armrest…avoid at ALL costs.
Those are just the situations I can think of off the top of my head, but I know there are so many left unmentioned. I’m constantly comparing my size with people around me, hoping to find someone bigger, so that I know at the very least, I will fit into whatever the activity is. Just knowing how limited my life has become due to something that is completely in my hands, drives me INSANE.
How could I have let myself get to this point, where I’m worried about those things? WHAT was I thinking? I will never be ashamed of WHO I am, because I think I am an amazing chick. I will always be ashamed of WHAT I have done to myself, because it was a choice. But it doesn’t have to define my life. I can look back on these moments, and be so thankful I snapped back to reality. I don’t want my legacy to be a lifetime of worrying if I will fit into things, a declination of health, and an untimely demise. I deserve more. My loved ones deserve more. There is only one way to turn things around, and that is to buck up and make some changes.
It all started with my period. Since the first time I got my period, they have always been irregular. I found out I had Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome at around 16 or 17. I gained a lot of weight, but because I played sports, it was relatively easy to manage, and even lose. Since graduating from high school, I’m sure I’ve exercised a total of 25 times, at most. And that was in 2006. Sad, I know. The lack of exercise, coupled with the PCOS, I basically ballooned, but slowly. The weight gain was gradual enough to where I didn’t start feeling bad about myself until the last 2 years or so. By then, the obstacle felt insurmountable. I don’t know why I still thought losing weight would just happen, but I guess that’s part of the disease. Over the years I rarely had periods, and I didn’t care the way I probably should have.
And then, last March I lost my Dad. He was 61, and had many ailments that contributed to his death, but it was still shocking and unexpected. I think I was depressed before his passing, but that just added an exclamation point to the shittiness of my life. Over the past year I have made great strides, even in spite of this profound loss, but my health wasn’t on my list of things to do. Until January. January I got my period, and I was happy that it had arrived, because I hadn’t had one in over 5 months. I was happy, until it hadn’t gone away after three weeks, and still hadn’t gone away after 1 month, 2 months, and THREE months. Finally, I decided it was time to go see a doctor.
I pretty much wrote myself off, assuming the worst. I had high blood pressure, I was extremely overweight and I knew it, and had been on my period for a quarter of a year. It had to be bad, right? They ran all sorts of tests and did ultrasounds, but other than the blood pressure and the PCOS, everything seemed relatively normal. That’s when two of my doctors told me it was all related to my weight. It was the first time a doctor had ever verbalized the necessity of losing weight to me. It was something I already knew, but to have a doctor tell you, it twists things a little bit. It was someone outside of my life, telling me I was fat, not in an insulting way, but a medically professional way. It hurt, but it was painfully obvious, and I couldn’t be mad. I had to pull myself out of denial, and here I am. Both doctors referred me to a weight loss program, and all I had to do was call the number.
It took a week of back and forth in my mind, but I finally called them. What do I have to lose (besides weight)? If I am honest with myself, and do what they tell me to, I will lose weight. The result is tangible now. It’s black and white. I either continue with the status quo, or I make a change. This is probably the easiest way for me to make that change, so why NOT take advantage of it. I would be crazy not to, and I’d like to think I’m not totally off the deep end. And so begins my journey. I named this blog Molting My Body, because that’s how I’m thinking of it. I am me, and no matter what I look like, I will always be me. I have always wanted to unzip my skin, and step out a thinner, healthier person, but it isn’t that easy. Even so, that is essentially what I’m doing. Over the course of the next year, my whole world will be changing, and at least I know it’s for the better. This blog will help remind me of where I’ve come from, and also where I am planning to go. Plus, there are millions of others who walk in my shoes daily, so maybe we can all do it together. For now, I’m fat, but not for long. Stay tuned….
CURRENT WEIGHT: 292
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