Part Five of Let’s Talk About Fat
If you have spent the majority of your life trying to lose weight, you must be forgiven for the fantasies you had while you were hungry and denying yourself food. You should be forgiven for imagining a different life, a life where you’ve successfully beat your demons, lost the weight, look 25 when you’re actually 45, fit into your high school jeans, and run into Sting at a party where he teaches you that tantric thing. This is supposed to be motivating, but the truth is even if you lose the weight, you will still be stuck with your regular life. I can attest to this now that I’ve lost 70 pounds. I assure you, it’s still me, just smaller.
Physically, everything is just easier, whether it is traveling or hauling things up the stairs, or working out. I have ditched my cpap and my blood pressure medication, and my sugar levels are stabilizing. So that’s a pretty big deal. You might be tempted to congratulate me. Don’t. I have done nothing other than make the decision to seek serious medical intervention. Would you congratulate someone for having heart surgery? Yes, I have made significant life style changes involving watching what I eat, trying to find time to work out, reading labels, and staying away from wheat and sugar. But these are changes I made years ago. The only difference between my lifestyle now and my lifestyle a year ago or even five years ago is that the diet/exercise program I am currently following (extreme caloric deprivation and occasional Zumba) is actually working. Also I spend a lot more time clothes shopping. A lot. And I’m somewhat preoccupied with my collar bones. Are they really supposed to stick out like that?
In the months it took me to be cleared for gastric bypass surgery, I was told both that losing weight would not solve all my problems, and that I should be prepared for it to cause major changes in my life, especially in my relationships with other people. I really had no idea how to prepare myself for people treating me differently, but I read up on the possibilities. People will be jealous, I read. People will accuse you of cheating and taking the easy way out by having surgery. People will try to sabotage you with food. Your family will taunt you with your favorite treats. Your partner will become insecure and no longer be attracted to you.
None of these things has happened to me, at least not so far. I have another 30-50 pounds to go, so people could still turn on me. Or treat me better. Thinner women tend to do better professionally and financially, so that would be great. I’ll take that, even if it’s a horrible reflection of the culture at large. After all, the size of my clothing does not make me better at my job. Maybe I am lacking in social awareness in that I am not perceiving a change in microaggressions, the number of cat calls I get on the street (and I did get them 70 pounds ago), or people checking out my grocery cart or what I eat at restaurants. Or maybe it’s just because I live in Mississippi where obesity is the norm.
I am starting to suspect that it may have more to do with changes in how you see yourself that affects your relationships. I’d like to think that my self-perception and self-worth were never tied to my weight to begin with and are therefore somewhat impervious to change. But the truth is, it probably just hasn’t caught up to me yet since I still get really startled when I see myself in a mirror. I’m definitely experiencing some body dismorphia. That may not go away. Will report back.
People don’t seem to be treating me differently, but that’s not to say they haven’t noticed, of course. Prior to surgery, I remember talking to my mandatory therapist about setting boundaries with people. I will not want people to comment on my looks all the time, I said. I don’t want people to ask me how much weight I’ve lost every time they see me. It’s so embarrassing. I don’t want people looking at me all the time.
This turns out not to be a problem. Unpredictably, I love the attention! Please, tell me I look great! Tell me I look like I’ve lost a ton of weight. I have. I’ll even tell you how I did it if you ask and how much to the tenth of a pound. And I’ll tell you where I got all my new clothes and what I eat for breakfast if you want to talk about how great it all is. I’ll talk about it until you get bored. I’m sure the attention will fade in time, and that’s ok. It’s really not all that interesting, after all. It’s not that I have succeeded through some secret new diet plan or an increase in will power. I chose a medical solution to a medical problem, and now I’m healing. It’s sort of odd that you can watch me heal as I shrink, but that’s all it is, healing. I’m not becoming a better person. I’m not even becoming a different person. I’m only becoming a smaller person. Just make sure you let me know when you see jeans go on sale. And I’m still up for Sting parties.
To read part one of this series, Let’s Talk about Fat, click here
To read part two of this series, What’s Your Trigger, click here
To read part three of this series, Loving the Fat that Weighs you Down click here
To read part four of this series, I’ll take the C: On becoming average click here.
You might also like: An Open Letter on Dating While Fat