Using the word Fat + mini rant:
I use the word fat as an adjective or noun in much of my writing, especially older writing where the concept of Having Obesity was not yet a concept. The word “fat” came out of the Fat Acceptance Movement I was active in during the 1980s and 1990s. I hated the words “obese” and “overweight.” I especially hated the term “morbidly obese.”
Now, being fat is classified as Class I, II, III, IV, V. I was a Class V (BMI > 60) much of my adult life. (And yes, the BMI is a totally stupid and antiquated way to classify a human being.) That is the biggest a classification goes. However, the CDC’s explanation of the class system doesn’t go above a Class III. Um… marginalization, anyone? Looking for something, anything, that talks about classes IV and V is almost futile! Only bariatric surgery sites seem to understand us folks who are beautifully super-sized. Seeing how dis-included we really super-sized folks are, even within the Obesity knowledge today, brought me to tears. I had to stop writing for a few minutes so I could chill about how hurt I am.
The word fat, coming from me, is not an epithet, but a term of love and appreciation for all people of size.
Weight and Social Anxiety
The term “Social Anxiety” is not one I ascribe to my personality, but is an apt description of what being fat, and losing fat, can feel like.
I’ve heard many people taking GLP-1 medications talking about the variety of variables that come with them. Strangers on social media deride folks for “taking the easy way out” and chastise them saying, “Why can’t you just eat right and exercise more?” This especially happens if that troll lost their weight “naturally.”
None of these folks who judge have ever experienced a second in our bodies, much less the 50+ years in mine.
I’m more baffled by those who also have obesity and make snide comments about the meds, asking people why they would take them. Two main scenarios about why they do that pop out to me:
- Their insurance doesn’t pay for the medications and they cannot buy them so it’s easier to negate them with anger.
- They are part of the Health at Every Size (HAES) movement (or are Fat Activists) and the medications run counter to everything they stand for.
(As a piece of important information. I have been a Fat Activist since 1988… speaking, writing, protesting. I still consider myself a Fat Activist and do not find it contradictory to be on GLP-1 medications.)
When I’m Fat, I’m Invisible
Having lived most of my life as a really fat person, I have a warped sense of physically wandering through life. Only because I have been not-as-fat a couple of times as an adult, have I realized the difference between the two.
It’s a weird thing having people look through me. No one asks if I need help in stores. I’m ignored on the street. Even when people have to step around me as if I were an obstacle, there is no eye contact. No, “Excuse me, ma’am.” Until I got smaller after the RNY Gastric Bypass, down to a more “normal” weight, did I notice the difference. Before that, I thought my life experiences were what everyone shared.
Once I got to about 200 pounds, I was moderately visible. Salespeople asked if I needed help, folks held the doors open, and people said, “Excuse me,” if they bumped into me. Those things never happened when I was over 250 pounds.
Ultra-Fat Visibility
As I’m writing this, I’m thinking about how I often pretended to be cavalier about the issues below… faking that they didn’t bother me at all. However, I know the words came with invisible swords and embedded themselves right into my heart. I still feel them even now.
- At least three times that I can remember, when I was outside walking for exercise, guys from a car threw things at me. Once it was oranges. Once eggs. And once trash.
- At Disney, I couldn’t fit through the turnstiles and had to walk through the wheelchair gate.
- I ride-tested Kali River Rapids at Animal Kingdom before the ride opened to the public and the seatbelt didn’t fit so I rode without a seatbelt. A Cast Member rode with me and freaked out when I, at 350 pounds, was tossed to and fro’ all over the ride. This pic shows how the ride looked when I rode it. They did fix the seatbelts to make them much bigger.
- At Disney parks, I would always have to use an electric wheelchair. People had snotty looks as I passed.
- I had to nap in First Aid when I went to Disney for the day.
- For some weird reason, seaters in restaurants do not realize fat folks can’t fit in booths. There’s no way to tell you how many times I had to ask for a table. And then ask for a chair without arms.
- For most of my life, wheelchairs were too small for me. I rode in one at EPCOT when I was pregnant with Tristan in 1982 and got leg burn from my thighs pressing on the metal that fried my leg with the friction of the wheel. Blessedly, they started making wheelchairs for larger-sized people. I always asked for the “Big Girl” wheelchair, making it sound like a cheerful request. It’s humiliating.
- For the 8-millionth time, I cannot understand how doctor’s offices do not have chairs without arms. Or sturdy chairs. Or benches. I have had to ask the receptionist for her office chair because I could not fit in the lobby chairs. That is just wrong.
- At an Italian restaurant, Zack and I were having dinner and three guys across the room were mooing at me. Zack got up and told them to shut the fuck up before he took them outside. Yet another horrid moment where I had to pretend I was fine.
- Goddess forbid I should have to get on a plane. Before they required a second seat for really big folks, people would groan, roll their eyes, get up and move if they could, and lean far from me in case I had fat cooties.
When I’m Not as Fat, I’m Invisible
There is a threshold I passed as I lost weight after my Roux-en-Y Gastric Gastric Bypass where I became invisible again. I think about crowd scenes in movies and how everyone is about the same size. Before surgery, I would have stuck out like a mountain on the prairie if I had been in those scenes. After I lost 150 pounds (of the 190 I eventually lost that first year), I would have melded into the landscape.
Body Dysmorphia
Suddenly, not sure when, but a few months after the gastric bypass and losing a bunch of weight, I was confused in my body. I still looked at chairs wondering if I would break them. I thought I was going to crack the toilet seat at a friend’s house. I still asked to go through the gates at Disney parks. When Zack told me I would fit through the turnstile, I turned sideways and got through. Not long after, he told me to go straight-on. I did and I walked through without getting stuck! I saw myself in reflections, not realizing that was me I was seeing. It was jarring when the realization washed over me. I bought clothes that were way too big. I was confused wearing smaller sizes. “Not me. I can’t wear that size!” I began walking at Disney instead of using the electric wheelchair. I didn’t take naps anymore.
And every single thing fucked with my mind. I just could not “see” or believe I could do those things. I was an alien in my own body, feeling like I was an avatar walking around in a weird dimension.
I am writing this 19 months after beginning this weight loss experience (it is sooooo much more than a journey!) and get confused I’m down 160 pounds. I don’t remember when that happened. Time is weird, passing almost without my knowing. (That’s an old person thing, too… time flying by.) I was fat fat fat a minute ago. One minute I am wearing 6x muumuus and the next I’m buying 2x tops and pants. Again, when did that happen?
Tomorrow, I’m flying on a plane without buying two seats to sit in. I still have the anxiety that someone will roll their eyes when they have to sit next to me, leaning away to grab any extra space so they don’t have to touch me. Yet, the kids keep saying I will be fine. I am 250, so I think I might be on the cusp of “fine,” but I will let you know next week how it turned out.
Fear of Men: My Albatross
There was one thing that freaked me out after I lost the gastric bypass weight, though.
Men.
I was so scared of being looked at by men, I usually would only go out with my partner at the time. (We were presenting as a lesbian couple during those years. Zack transitioned in 2011 and we went our separate ways in 2014.) Male energy made me nervous. When I was that thin (small), men seemed humongous. They could hurt me easily if they wanted to. Sense the issue I was having?
I didn’t realize I had this inside me until I weighed 150 pounds and was trying on a pair of jeans that were a size 8. I zipped them up, looked in the mirror and said something I will never forget.
“I need to eat some chips.”
It just came out of my mouth. Unbidden. It was as if someone else was speaking through me.
That was the end of my gastric bypass’ success. I began eating and getting fat again. It took 19 years to gain it all back, but I did it. I began to feel safe at 250 again and got there pretty quickly.
Yeah, I needed therapy. The thing is, I was in therapy! Have been now for 40 years. Did I ever discuss body dysmorphia in therapy? I can’t remember talking about it even one time. And I am a serious digger in therapy!
Since that time, I’ve discussed, dissected, examined, and worked through these issues. I am not 100% sure, but am thinking I’ll be okay this time. Also, I am 62 years old and am certainly not attractive to men (which feels great, by the way). That helps.
(And I LOOOVVVVEEEE men! I have a son. I have wonderful guy friends. I am not ManPhobic, I promise. But, yes, the sexual aspects of men have been an issue in my life.)
I do have my therapist at the ready and we always have this topic simmering on the stove should it ever come up. No need to work from the beginning; just dive right into the boiling water.
Is There a Way to Bypass Social Anxiety?
Through the shit is the best way I know. Connecting with others helps so much. Knowing we are not alone is one of the best ways to get a head start on finding comfort in your new body.
Some find getting massages a great way to experience their new bodies. Others discover movement (exercise) actually feels good and if there are mirrors involved, it can move things forward for them. However mirrors might not be comfortable for awhile, gradually watching yourself move might be easier. Yoga is a common device for people to physically get in touch with themselves.
Even though meditation is considered a cure-all and is the first recommendation out of a care provider’s mouth, I have found meditation (which I do daily) not helpful for body dysmorphia. You might have a different experience, but for me, it is an organized way to get out of my head and body, instead of in it. If I repeat an affirmation throughout, that helps. “I’m healthy, whole, and complete.” “My body is mine.” “I’m perfect just the way I am today.” These are positive ways for me to sit quietly. Introspection is better than allowing thoughts to float through and by. That complicates my inner Self.
I would love to know how you work with and through social anxiety and body dysmorphia. I believe we can all learn from each other and you are just the one I want to learn from.
Talk to me in the comments!
