The vast majority of female chatter is dedicated to weight issues and exercise regiments. I never realized how much this is so until it became a sore point for me. Up until that time, I happily participated in denigrating my own body.
The body game can never be won by women. Mainly because the ideal is so imaginary, not even models can reach that standard. Instead they are photoshopped to reach that sweet point. It took me a long time to understand what I was idealizing in fashion magazines wasn't real it was fake. Finally I stopped buying them altogether because they urged women to fast and exercise to reach a point that is not biologically possible.
Let me write this bluntly...you, random reader, will never be thin or thin enough. You are fine the way you are if you are healthy which means no aches, pains or disease. Sometimes being healthy means you are at a size that the media deems "fat". Another blunt fact, your body will make you eat come hell or high water if it feels it is in a severe state of famine. And it will interpret any and all diets as a state of famine. Giving in to these urges to eat is not a matter of will power. The body is doing whatever it can to ensure it's survival. Even if it means keeping you at a weight that you don't find desirable.
What it all boils down to is that you have no control over your appetite. None unless you adopt the policies of an anorexic or bulimic and which are psychologically damaging.
When I finally accepted myself after a hard and failed dieting regime, disaster struck and highlighted to me how futile my diet habits had been. And how pathetic it is to desire to "eat right" and exercise crazily then righteously pontificate about it to female friends.
I used to have a stomach of cast iron. I could eat anything I wanted without complaint. Despite that happy state, I was unhappy and felt I had too big of an appetite. I'm short and I always had a tendency toward plumpness. It was the hallmark of my inherited genetics, in which thinness during harsh Alaskan winters meant death not beauty. So putting on weight came easy to me. Of course, all my troubles were due to those extra 15, 20, 30 (depending on my mood) pounds on my frame that I could not lose. And I tried losing them but no matter how much I lost, I always gained it back and then some. A lot of my youth was wasted worrying about the size of my body.
Last year, after a long and hard fight, I accepted my size. Immediately after that acceptance-- my stomach gave out on me. I went from being able to eat whatever I wanted to surviving on yogurt for many months. This was due to horrific heart burn, sour stomach and gas bloating. Anything I ate caused me pain. And by pain, I mean awake all night hoping the heartburn medication would kick in to help me.
As a byproduct of this problem, my appetite was gone. As in I could exist on that yogurt regiment for a whole day with no complaints. Because the pain was so bad, my body seemed to put a stopper on anything that would or could cause it. I subsisted on that mini-fast for weeks and during that time the extra pounds that always worried me disappeared. The weight loss was quick, easy and sickness induced.
The fact that my "wonderful" weight loss was due to sickness didn't stop everyone I knew from complimenting me on my great achievement. As if I had any control over this side effect at all. I didn't. As always my body was looking after it's survival as it was genetically programmed to do. It just so happened that this meant allowing my extra reserves of fat to be used as an energy resource because food was not an option. Looking back now, I'm glad I did have that extra weight to use because if I didn't I would be skeletal maybe to the point of seeking hospitalization.
What became clear to me was that extra tire of fat around my middle was not just useless, inert, and lazy matter. It was there for serious health emergencies. And in my case, it completed it's duty, it kept my body from failing during it's self induced fast. Still, I find it interesting that even with all that loss, I would still be considered FAT. Even though my collar bones stick out, my ribs show a bit and my cheeks are faintly hallowed, I have a bit of a tummy. This fat is considered a precious resource by my body and that extra bit will NOT come off my body. This resource only had so much to give and more is not an option. But luckily my appetite is back and I can eat again. But with severe restrictions which is another reason why this little tummy will not be leaving.
I don't believe I will ever be at the weight I was before my sickness. Which is why the extra that survived will stubbornly stick to me. But I don't want it to leave. I'm glad its there to keep me safe. Because mealtimes now take a great deal of thought for me. Will this type of food cause me pain? Does the food establishment cook it's food in way that will cause me pain? Some foods now are strictly forbidden because they automatically cause me pain, such as bacon. Because dinner is a particularly iffy meal, all my calories are taken in during breakfast with lunch as a lighter snack. Dinner most likely never happens or it is just a small snack. I can't stand this way of thinking but it keeps me from suffering. But I oh so envy everyone eating without worry. I live vicariously through them.
Which is why food talk and labeling now infuriates me and even more so when I'm included in it. I hate when someone jokes that I'm being "bad" because I'm eating a hamburger with (oh what luck!) fries or a piece of cake. We are looking at my meal from two different perspectives, they from a point that FAT is bad, bad, bad and myself just gratified that I can even eat. Any day without pain from food is a good day. If I gain, so what? But I hate that head shaking over my meals. I hate that small talk about dieting that fills the conversation of most women. Then I'm expected to take part or support them in the emptiness. And I especially loathe the fact that my sickness induced weight loss is considered a stroke of good luck. That it was a wonderful event and I'm envied for it.
I refuse to support that opinion and in turn the notion that extra weight is a matter of a lack of will power. It is not. No amount of will power caused me to lose weight. No amount of it will bring the weight back. Our society is suffering from a ridiculous amount of body dysmorphia and it markets it as a normal state of mind. I refuse to take part in it anymore.
Which leaves me with little to no small talk subjects to discuss with female friends.Labels: body dysmorphia, fat acceptance, personal
