Into the Thick of It

The path is never straight

Is fat a bad word? You say that word about yourself and people start gasping and saying "oh no, don't say that about yourself". All while you sit there a few pounds away from a producer from TLC calling to recruit you. Overweight people are aware they are overweight, no clutching of pearls needed. If you want a derogatory term, try morbidly obese, that one is, while clinical, also cruel and unusual punishment. No need to go straight to death when describing someone's weight. We get it, take it down a notch.

It's funny how some people get upset when you get self-deprecating about your size and yet somehow obesity seems to be one of the only ailments left that seems to get a pass for bullying. Out of concern for someone's health, of course. I have heard plenty of brutal terms that far exceed fat, under the guise of, "you did this to yourself" or "you could die" or "your are a drain on the health insurance industry". Look, don't do me any favors, I know what I look like and no one hates it more than me. But also, take that down a notch, too.

I've spent most of my adult life on the high end of the BMI chart and unlike what some geniuses sitting behind a computer screen might think, most of us don't want to be this way. And most are actively working against it. Weight loss isn't a billion dollar industry for nothing. I have tried everything short of whistling for an Oompa Loompa to roll me to the juicing room.

There was Aktins, that sent me to the hospital. But hey, I lost 25 pounds in three weeks. I tried Ozempic before it was a thing and quit after a month because it made me sick to my stomach.. but I did lose 17 pounds! I consumed nothing but what I assume were protein shakes for just shy of a couple of months (I didn't ask questions, I just wanted to be skinny). Definitely lost weight, definitely gained it all back real quick. Of course when you take away 70% of what you normally eat, you will lose weight. So I tried all this and more. At the end of the day, I learned nothing about how to eat right and definitely didn't get my ass moving enough to make a difference.

Around 13 years or so ago, I went on Weight Watchers (not a sponsor) and a miracle occurred. Not so much about the diet program, but my mindset. Because that's what it's all about, getting your head right. Something clicked way back then and I started cooking healthy for every meal. I own stock in skinnytaste.com (not a sponsor). Once I started to lose a little, I started walking. When I lost more, I started running. Then I joined a boot camp that sometimes met at 5am. I did hot yoga, for fuck's sake. I was militant about what went into my body and made sure I kept moving. I have no idea who that girl was or what happened to her but damn, I do miss that size 8 body.

The "skinny" era

So what happened? Ironically, at my smallest, when I was feeling the best about myself that I ever have, my marriage imploded. If you look good, that's supposed to keep them around, right?? I moved in with my Mom (thank you for taking me in). I stayed true for awhile but slowly stopped caring. What does anything matter at that point, right? When you have to start over from square one? All those 100+ pounds I took off slowly but surely found me again. I started working in a restaurant, on my feet, walking up and down stairs. Surely, I would lose weight in that scenario. Well, it was a fucking pizza place, okay. Nobody's perfect. My feet hurt but my waistline only expanded.

Over a decade later, I sit here probably weighing more than I ever have. I got cancer and gained 30 pounds through chemo. If anyone was going to find a way to GAIN weight going through cancer treatment, it surely would be me. Don't get me wrong, I'd rather gain than lose in this scenario but come the hell on. So now I have to lose the cancer weight as well as the divorce weight on top of the depression weight and then the pregnancy weight.. so on and so forth.

Right now, I'm trying to find the woman whose mindset helped her lose basically a whole person. I try to summon whatever motivation there was but I truly have no idea where my head was at back then. The universe afforded me a couple of years to feel good about myself and flaunt my tiny body in cute clothes. The funny part is, I don't even want to be a size 8 anymore, I really just want to be able to get off my new couch with a little grace at this point. And maybe, you know, get healthy to prevent further illnesses. That might also be a good thing.

And no, it doesn't take being a single-digit size to be able to love your body. That has always been my problem, honestly. It takes loving yourself to treat yourself better. I've never been quite there. I don't know that I've even been kind to myself. I still look at clothes and think of the thin woman I was for a short period of time rather than who I am now. Then I just buy the kimono cardigan or the no-shape dress or all black, whatever I can find to hide myself. I am sure the girl from 13 years ago would say she was done hiding. But she was in her 30s still and didn't have bad knees or hair that made her look like a short, pudgy Bea Arthur. But I digress.

I've always seen myself in the background and never part of my own main story. Being a big girl is not easy and the world around doesn't help. I definitely have gotten to an age where worrying about what other people think is lessening, but it's still there. It's a dichotomy to put so much stock into others opinions and yet also hate people most of the time.

I say all this with the hopes of finding whatever magic sauce my former self was putting on her grilled chicken breast. I know she’s still in there, the girl who laced up at 5 a.m. and didn’t flinch at hot yoga. I just have to find her voice again (and drown out the devil asking me to pick up donuts). And until then… let me call myself fat if I need to. But maybe gasp a little, just to show you care.