A journal of healing

Posts tagged ‘body acceptance’

A Pissy Situation part six: Selective survival

“There is only one possibility for survival for you and that will be dialysis.”  When I heard that from the nephrologist, I could not believe my ears. Matter of fact, I sort of denied it for a while. Now it has been brewing in my head for many weeks. The whole visit was so overwhelming that I thought at first I misunderstood her, but I did not. But my advice is to take someone along with you when you go to the doctor. Someone you trust and who will remember what was said.

But I did hear her correctly because my next thing to do was take a class on kidney care and dialysis. Unfortunately, the nurse who taught it was terrible and self-centered. But she too said the same thing. And she also stated that there would be only one type of dialysis for me to choose.

And this sentence, this proclamation of my mortality is based solely on my size. No one looked at any medical chart. No one did an evaluation or in-depth study of my health history. One look at my physical shape and the decision was made.

I get this all the time with medical people. I was going to use medical professionals but there is nothing professional about the instant judgement based on the bias and discrimination inflicted on people of size.

Most of my adult life, before I became sick from a hereditary malady with my blood, I was healthy as an ox. I had normal blood pressure, normal everything including not being diabetic. I was very physical and active. I was just fat. I have been so my whole entire life from birth. I was a pudgy baby. Then it was cute. Doctors used to get so frustrated with the fact my glucose was below normal and it was like they were trying to make me diabetic. I did become diabetic but that was  because of the reaction to medication for the psoriatic arthritis. Matter of fact, ever thing cascaded downward after I had to go on very strong medications. I often wonder what would be if I never needed to take those drugs. How different my life would be?

But this is the cards I was dealt, so I have to deal with it. But I do not have to accept being told that I do not have options because I am fat. No one should. If they had said I could only have this one type of dialysis because of my blood condition, I would understand it. But to tell me that a transplant is out of the question without delving into a complete work up is wrong. To tell me that there is only one kind of dialysis that I will be able to use without knowing my history and for that fact, not being a doctor, was unethical of that nurse.

You cannot imagine how this feels. I know so many large people who face this every day. The declared sentences, the judgments, the uniformed decisions based on prejudice and bias are rampant. Our health care system is not accepting and it is not just for people of size. It is for anyone who does not fit the mold of the desired patient. I won’t even go into poverty and how the poor get treated. That is not this fight.

People think that people of size choose to be fat. The word FAT has such a horrible connotation to it, unlike any other word to describe a human. We don’t cringe when say someone is tall or short. We have learned not to designate a person by their skin in a derogatory manner anymore. (Well some still do) We are offended if someone calls someone by their disability. Why is it an insult to call someone fat? Because our country has been fed bullshit by the medical world and by the media that being fat is the worst thing in the world to be. It is preached by certain religions that gluttony is a sin. Someone who is large is not automatically a “glutton”. Even small children know fat is a “bad” thing.

This is not just about whether or not I can have a transplant. It is about treating people equally. This is just my personal example of a death sentence handed unjustified and without full discovery. It a court of law, it would be thrown out. This is just one small example of how discrimination kills. This is a form of annihilation. “We let the fat people die and they will go away.” Fat people live in a ghetto of isolation all over this country.

As I approach the celebration of another birthday this Friday, I cannot sit back and let this continue. I am becoming a warrior. I am powering up with education. I am gathering information and arming myself with facts. And I will fight this fight as much as I can. I know there are many of us now who will not sit back and let this discrimination continue.

 

 

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A Pissy Situation part one

I have been putting this post off long enough. I wanted to tell a few people to their faces but that does not seem to be happening. I feel like I am about to burst and I need the release my blogging gives me. I have been writing about my life now for over six years and now it is time for me to write about my death. Yes, that is correct. I am coming into a phase that everyone eventually arrives at. It is all a matter of time. Mine has just been defined a little more accurately. This may seem dramatic, and it is. But I am not going to soften this because it will make it easier for others. Nope! This is about me, totally me and what I am feeling.

In 2006 I was diagnose with Psoriatic Arthritis (PsA) and Psoriasis (P). It took over two years for the diagnosis because I am fat. I went from someone who played tournament level tennis three times a week to someone whose hands were claws and could not walk. Everyone blamed the fat for the joint pain. Finally, when my hands curled up, I was sent for tests and to a rheumatologist. Oh boy, did I have inflammation. I did not develop the psoriasis like anyone else and so they misdiagnosed that as well. They said it was a form of hives and it was everywhere. Now, they know what my type of psoriasis I have.

Why did this happen? I truly believe the trauma of going through a life altering situation triggered it. I was going through a divorce after 27 years of a miserable marriage. I had to sell my house as part of the divorce and get my own place, which I did. But then I lost my job the day after I signed the mortgage. It was so terrifying for me. I only had the support of one or two good friends to get me through it. My social life had been based on my husband’s circle.

It was like a cascade of failing health thereafter. About a year after I moved in to my home, I had an episode where I might have had a mini stroke. I went to the hospital and they discovered five blood clots, including one very near my heart. I have written about this before so I won’t at this time. The diagnosis and the whole event probably saved me from the grave fifteen years ago. I have an inherited blood condition called Factor V Leiden. My blood clots too much. My father had it, his mother, and my brother has it. I was fine and have been on a blood thinner ever since. But this led to a gynecological issue which required more medical attention. But for over a year, I would bleed out during my monthly. I almost had to have a transfusion. All of this was over the course of two years.

Meanwhile, my body was revolting with inflammation. There is a strong correlation to stress and inflammation. During these years I met my now husband who moved in with his 13 year old daughter. We both went back to college and we were working a multitude of little jobs to get by. His daughter was not happy and we had to contend with her mother who would not stop interfering. We eventually shipped her off to her mother in California which was the right thing to do.

So back now to 2006: Once I was officially diagnosed with PsA and P, I was put on huge doses of methotrexate, prednisone, and Advil. About a year in, I started to have cranberry colored urine. The doctors said it was from the blood thinner. They did nothing and I stayed on the drugs. Meanwhile, I was putting on weight like crazy. Finally, a blood test revealed that my A1C was 13 and the other labs were indicating some kidney issues. They actually told me to diet. Really? I went from to low blood glucose with an A1C of 5-6 for most of the time since they tested me to 13 and its diet? I finally got to the rheumatologist who said looking at my labs, “did anyone tell you your kidneys crashed?”  They did not.

For the following years I was on just Enbrel for the PsA. They did nothing else. My glucose went back down although not where it was. Everything seemed to be ok. My physical ability was never the same however. Then I started passing kidney stones. I am talking rocks. I passed one so big it made my doctor cringe. I passed over 100 stones. I never went into the hospital. I just suffered on my own. They found five rather large ones in my right kidney and said there was nothing they could do. They were so large, they would never pass. They put me on Allopurinol finally only four years ago to help with the formation and it did help. But the damage was done.

It seems that these kidney issues are not uncommon with someone with PsA. The disease changes your blood chemistry to be more acidic, and uric acid is formed in great quantities. The stones I passed were all uric acid based. Think battery acid for piss. All of this can damage the kidney if left unchecked. I was unchecked for too long.

On top of that issue, about four years ago the Enbrel stopped working. I had to go on something new. I went through eight different highly potent biologicals in an attempt to improve my condition. They all had horrible side effects. The worse was chronic diarrhea. I had it so bad on one drug I could not drive to work without an issue. Work was only 20 minutes away. One morning I had to pull into a park and shit against a building. There was a Sherriff on the other side and if he had gotten out and walked around I would have been arrested. I exploded three times at work, once covering the bathroom that the CEO used. It was intolerable. They all made me sick and they did not help the PsA or P. I was getting covered with splotches and my hair was falling out. I lost  a lot of my mobility and started to need a cane.

In 2016, I was put on Humira. It did nothing for me and I had to use Advil to be able to walk. I was not taking big doses of Advil, but I should have been told to take none. The doctor knew I was taking it. The Humira gave me such issues that I had to see a cardiologist. They found nothing wrong and I finally demanded I stop the Humira. In 2017, I was put on an outrageously expensive shot called Stelara. My world changed immediately. The psoriasis was gone. The PsA was less and I felt like a human being again.

My labs were indicating things were not as rosy as I felt. First my A1C started to climb again. My blood pressure was getting very high. I put on weight, as I did with all the drugs. But the kidney function was declining. In September of 2017 my GFR (which is the measure of output the kidneys are functioning at) was down to 23. I had been there once before when I was passing a huge kidney stone and I got it back up to about 40. The GFR is saying that my kidneys were functioning at about 23%. Not good.

I decided I needed to change my life. I needed to destress. My job had become horrible and intolerable. I did not need it. We had been planning on my retiring anyways in another two years. I took the leap.

The next lab which was a month after I retired my GFR went up two points. I had made the right decision. But I felt like crap. I had little energy. I was short of breath on exertion, which was something I never had before. I was sleeping terribly and constantly tired. My PCP wanted me to see the nephrologist to see what she had to say. It took three months, but I finally got an appointment.

In the beginning of April my labs were God awful. I have enough medical background to know I was in deep doo doo. I had my first meltdown of what will be a series I am sure. My A1C had gone up a lot, and other readings indicated something was going on. Since I was put on the Stelara, my triglycerides were climbing and they were now three times what they were a year ago and at a dangerous level. But the worse part was my kidney GFR went back down 2 points.

I took my husband to the nephrologist appointment because I knew it was not going to be good. It was not good. I really like this doctor and had seen her way back in 2009 when I had my first issue. She told it like it is and what I am going to have to face. It was shocking to tell the truth and to face mortality is the worse feeling in the world.

This is the bottom line: I am facing dialysis. It may be in a year or less, or it may be two years. But it is going to have to happen as I will die otherwise. Once I am on dialysis, the prognosis is five to ten years. That is for someone who is healthy otherwise with no comorbidities. And yes I know, some people live for years and years on dialysis but guess what others don’t. One thing I am not tolerating is Pollyanna like remarks. I will go into more of all this in another post. Bottom line, my life has changed drastically and I have been told what my future holds.

Am I sad? Yes. Am I frightened? I am terrified. But I am going to fight like I have my whole life. Right now the goal is to preserve what kidney function I have. I am drinking sodium citrate twice a day to turn down the acid in my blood. I am taking more insulin. Because my kidneys aren’t functioning well, I am extremely anemic (which is why I am so friggin tired). I am on high doses of iron and vitamin D. I am trying as best as I can to be more physical. And I have had to change my diet drastically. I am going to see a renal dietician next week.

This is the most ironic part of all this: all these years I have been dieting on whole grains and tons of chicken and vegetables, I have been hurting my kidneys. I have to right now avoid potassium at all costs. Who knew my stables of broccoli, Brussel sprouts, darks greens and chicken were the worse things I could be consuming. In the effort to meet everyone else’s standard of looking appropriate, I was poisoning myself.  I will be going into this more as I learn about it. But am I angry about this…well yes I am.

In truth, I am very angry about the whole thing. I went to a renal class already as the nephrologist suggested it would be good for me to know what I am facing. She knows I already have done a lot of research on things but she wants me to get the truth, not the Internet truth. I am actually looking forward to seeing the dietician because for once, it won’t be about being fat. This is one thing I am going to write about because the discrimination of people of size is outrageous in the kidney world.

My life is altered completely. I am not taking crap from anyone. I am going to do what I want without guilt. I don’t think my husband fully understands, but we have talked about it and he is compassionate. That’s all I want right now as I lick my wounds and get my fierce up. I am glad I am retired as I can do as I can when I want. My future will be tethered to a machine, but for now, I am not. And I am going to treasure this time.

 

 

 

 

Hatred: a Learned Behavior

Currently I am reading “Shrill”, a book by Lindy West. It is not for the easily offended reader. She is a comedian and is very funny. But she is also FAT. Lindy is a true Fat activist and writes for about the struggles she has. She deals with hate every day. But she wants to change the world and I think she has many valid points. She says, “Being fat is like walking around with a sandwich board that says, “HERE’S WHERE TO HURT ME!” That’s why reclaiming fatness— living visibly, declaring, “I’m fat and I am not ashamed”— is a social tool so revolutionary, so liberating, it saves lives.”

When I was growing up, bullying existed but it was not exonerated. Bullies were known. They were outcasts and shunned, unless you were one. As a child, you learned to fight back or suffer. Parents did not fight your fight for you. You could rat out a bully if you dared and they would be “in trouble,” which meant something in those days.

Today’s culture is very different. I blame the media who created movies like “Mean Girls.” Then we have TV shows like the “Biggest Loser” where they abused Fat people for entertainment. There was nothing real or entertaining about that show. There is one out there now called “My 600 Pound Life” about very large people who are suffering and struggling to just survive. There is nothing entertaining about witnessing suffering. But it creates absolution for the hatred of people of size and fosters bigotry.

Lindy talks about flying and the stigma attached to Fat people when they board an airplane. I have sat in seats that do not fit me. It is humiliating at best as well as painful. And my butt is not as big as a Kardashian. I love Lindy’s retort: “We don’t insist on a solution because it’s still culturally acceptable to be cruel to fat people. When even pointing out the problem— saying, “my body does not fit in these seats that I pay for”— returns nothing but abuse and scorn, how can we ever expect that problem to be addressed? The real issue here isn’t money, it’s bigotry. We don’t care about fat people because it is okay not to care about them, and we don’t take care of them because we think they don’t deserve care…..We don’t insist on a solution because it’s still culturally acceptable to be cruel to fat people.

We are not born hating people different from us. Babies do not see Fat people as a threat. They learn that from their parents. My parents hated Fat people and had no issues making hurtful comments my whole life. Their mothers hated Fat people too and passed that down. They had no reason to hate fat people. They also hated people of different religions and especially hated people of color. They had no tolerance for anyone different from them, actually. They were upper class snobs full of themselves. My siblings to some degree reflect the same thinking. I never did learn the behavior and was an outcast in my own family sphere. But I held true to my principals.

We live in a country where hatred, bigotry, misogynic behaviors are being tolerated and actually glorified by some. But we are starting to have people who are standing up and saying no more. We have to do this. The energy of hatred is toxic. We have to change what we teach our children. I am aghast at the comments I hear from young people that are vile and filled with prejudice of things and people they have no direct experience with. How is that possible? Because hatred is a learned behavior and we have to stop teaching and accepting it.

West, Lindy. Shrill: Notes from a Loud Woman (p. 148). Hachette Books. Kindle Edition.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Fat Hatred

This weekend celebrated the second Women’s March in Seneca Falls. There were over 10,000 people there to voice their concerns. Voicing concerns is everyone’s right in the USA. I support that right as a woman and as a blogger. I am not able to accept and even understand what gives people the right to go on to someone’s blog and write an evil and threatening message. It happens all the time and to totally innocuous blogs.

Blogging is the opportunity for the blogger-author to express their thoughts. It is therapeutic at times and it can be a gift of education or just simply an outlet for the blogger to write about their experiences. It is a wonderful outlet.

I follow several blogs. There is one I find at times quite humorous called Dancing with Fat by Ragen Chastain. She is a large size lady who writes, is a triathlete, and a dancer. She also is a motivational speaker who encourages people of all size to be the best that they are no matter what their size. She is a true hero for the thousands of people who let their size inhibit their lives.

There are many other activists who are trying to simply educate people about size discrimination. It is totally acceptable in our country if not encouraged to harass and bully people of size. I do not get it and never have. But I was astounded by the hatred these activists have had hurled at them on their websites and even face to face.

In Regen’s blog she talks about trolls. She actually created a website and posted some of the comments and her very funny and witty replies. The comments are graphic and threatening and just frightening. She has never hurt anyone or tried to change anyone. She is only offering a glimpse into her life with joy and support for others. Pardon the language of this, but this is an example: “cant we just kill the fat people and make cat food out of them? 99% of obese people are just stupid lazy ugly pieces of lard,fuck em”  Can you imagine how this makes me feel as a large person to be judge that I should be KILLED and made into cat food simply because I take a larger dress size? Of course the sentiment loses value in the quality of the rant… and we move on. But how horrible is it that this person is out there expressing that much hatred and violence to an innocent group of fat people. Really? There are a lot more worthy groups to hate if you got to hate.

I am so naïve even at this ripe old age. I never knew there was so much hatred against fat people. This hatred is a learned behavior because it is not embraced by everyone in the world. What difference is to anyone if a person is large or small as long as they are not hurting anyone? This issue is becoming more prevalent now because people are standing up and saying “STOP IT!” Count me in!

We would never tolerate this type of harassment and hatred towards people of color. But I lived with that hatred growing up and I still hear it whispered behind closed doors. The fact is now it is unacceptable to slur and insult people simply because they have different skin color. It was an arduous fight. I am not saying the fight is over either. But when I was a young child it was a segregated world and it was nationally acceptable. But no more. It gives me hope.

I am not going to go on a political rant here. It would be too easy. Change has to happen. We need to be aware of this hatred in order for it to change. People don’t like to get involved in controversy and we have become a nation of complacency, which is why we are where we are with the leaders we have.

My goal is to just point out something that many people might not even be aware of. Next time you sit next to a fat person, understand that they know when they are being ostracized. They can see the looks and feel the shame you want them to feel for just existing. In many cases, their size is their protection from the harm and hurt their life has been. Try to understand and not judge.

Outrage

I was reading one of my favorite blogs the other day and I became outraged. It talks about how Google was putting information down about walking distance and calories when asked for directions. She felt this was fat shaming.  https://danceswithfat.wordpress.com/2017/10/28/google-cupcakes-and-terrible-ideas/

I do not necessarily agree that this was the best example of fat shaming. I actually think it is kind of nice information if you CAN walk.  The calorie indication is just part of the diet culture we live in. But there are other messages out there that are not only fat shaming, but blatant discrimination.

She mentions that in some places they have turned off the escalators so that people will use stairs. Swell. That is discrimination of people with disabilities whether they are small or large. I know plenty of people who cannot climb stairs or even worse, like in my situation, go down them. I can go up with a hand rail for support but coming down is not happening. My one ankle now goes completely out at any situation and makes me fall if I do not have something to grab. Imagine my luck on stairs.

What about wheelchair access? She was saying that they are putting up signs next to elevators to remind people to use the stairs because you burn more calories. Talk about rubbing it in the face of people who cannot make a choice. That is not fat shaming; it is just harassment of everyone who is disabled.

In other blogs she talks about the discrimination or fat shaming that occurs with large people getting medical treatment. She states one person she knew was denied health insurance because she was morbidly obese. (I hate that phrase with a passion) How is that not discrimination? How is telling employees that if you are over a certain body weight, you will have to pay more for your health coverage not discrimination and for that fact, legal? But places are doing it all over the country. My company almost went there.

We lump every large person into one category. FAT, LAZY, and UNRELIABLE. We are treated like liars all the time. (Yes, secretly I go home after work and stuff my face with ice cream and cake… and even if I did, what business is that of yours?) Doctors accuse of lying all the time. In my own experience, I was accused of gorging myself by my two doctors when I put on 17 pounds in 6 weeks. They were sure it was what I was eating. On my own, I stopped a medication I was put on and almost overnight, the weight disappeared. But neither would listen to me and I sat sobbing in their offices telling them how awful I felt since going on the medication. The medication also caused dyspnea, but they didn’t seem concerned and again said it was because I was fat. I did not have shortness of breath before or after. It was humiliating and hurtful and neither of them said anything afterwards when I proved it was the medication.

In this culture, large people are the remaining targets of the worse discrimination out there. We are outrage if someone is discriminated for color or race. They just sanctioned a baseball player for making slant eyes at an Asian pitcher. Bet if he called someone fat nothing would happen.

I can only speak for how this makes me feel. I see people’s expressions. I hear their words of disapproval, and I feel the ostracization all the time. I hear all the girls at work constantly talking about their suffering when it comes to dieting and they wear it like a badge of honor. “OH, I can’t eat that” or “I would love a cookie, but no…”

But this pisses me off more than anything: I eat my lunch at my desk while I am working. And I do this because I do not want to stop working, but more because I do not want to be judged. I eat the same thing every day. I have a bag of chopped veggies, an English muffin with mayo and 2 slices of “just turkey” (has no chemicals in it). I leave the veggies out to munch on. Just last week, someone came to my desk and had the gall to say, “OH my, what a healthy lunch.”  I said, “Yes, surprise! Fat people eat better than most. Why are you shocked?”  Oh did she do a back pedal. This is not the first time either. I actually have had people just come into my old office cubby when I was eating a salad and start lecturing me on diets.

The image I used for this post is what as me all riled up. “Fat ballerina.” This is inexcusable. Dress up like a fat person and make fun of them all night. Yes indeedy. Be the star of your party by humiliating people who often have no choice of their situation or health. Next we should make a costume to mock developmentally disabled folks and call it “Retard.” Or how about a costume that makes you look like you have a prosthesis and we can call that one “Gimp”?  Think I am going over board? Try walking around in a real fat suit and see how it feels.

 

Don’t take this personally

“You’re too sensitive.” “I meant this is a good way.” And my favorite: Don’t take this personally.” Everyone time someone says those things; I know it is going to be a dagger in my soul. I am too sensitive. I will take it badly. And I most definitely will take it personally. Because that is the honest intent. Prefacing statements with “honestly” or to “tell the truth” does not excuse the fact that you are about to be mean. “It’s for your own good” never really is. It’s about you feeling superior to me.

Being an empath is not a pleasure. I see right through most people’s crap in a heartbeat. It does not mean that I can shield myself from the hurt. I never learned that part of survival. Because of that, I am very vulnerable to insults, even if they are shrouded in good intentions. They never really are good intentions.

When you are a large woman, you are a walking target for these kinds of insults. People feel so justified to say, “You would be so pretty if…..” “or you have a beautiful face….” People tell you how much better your life would be if only you could be more like them with statements like: “you should run with me some morning.” Oh Honey, if you really knew me, you would know I can hardly walk some mornings due to psoriatic arthritis. But you don’t really see me, so thanks but no thanks.

These comments do more than just hurt me. They trigger me. My family never lacked in cruel comments. It was a sport to see how clever someone could insult another. I was an enigma in the sense I was the only woman in my family who was large. I mean I am the tallest by 5 to 7 inches, I wore a much larger size (my Mom was a zero to 3) and I had boobs. I spent my childhood listening to “how much better I would be if I only…” This is emotional abuse by the way. I was deprived of treats, often subjected to ridiculous diets like green beans and Jello and constantly harangued about my shape.

[And this is how just writing about my childhood trigger me to justify it. I realized this when I went back to reread what I wrote:] My mom was in charge of the food in the house and meals were excessively high in carbs and fat. There was always soda and cookies available because the other siblings could gorge on them. They were thin. I was an extremely active child and teen often spending the day swimming or riding a bike for miles. I was not allowed to sit around and watch TV or even read. As a younger woman, I was very active. I only slowed down because of the PsA and if I did not have it, I would still be playing tennis and other activities as much as I could.

My family’s constant barrage of self-improvement comments were actually telling me how I failed. There was little said to counter the demeaning of the words. It successfully made me feel like a failure and that was the intent. I know this now, but it scarred me. So now when people make their veiled comments, I hear the disappointment in my mother and father and it brings me back to that time. When you have PTSD, it does not take much to trigger you.

When you grow up with a sense of failure, you have two choices: over achieve or lie down and whither. I overachieved. My success had not dampened the hurt I feel when someone is critical. I am so sensitive, that a look can set me off. I feel people’s disdain of me even if they think they are hiding it. I read people very clearly. It does not matter who or what the relationship. It does not matter if I love or hate the person. Their intent comes beaming through.

Next time you go to make a comment, try to remember that a large person already knows they are large. Chances are they have spent a lifetime trying to meet other’s expectations and have failed. They may not be strong, and your words will haunt them for days. You have no right to demean someone ever. If you think you are helping them, you are not. Get off your white horse and stop being so pompous. Learn that “right reflexing” (the attempt to take charge of someone else’s change process) does not motivate anyone to change. Understand your motive before you speak. Send love, not hurt.

 

Fat Shaming

There is a very strong movement out there that I think is wonderful and way overdue. It seems to be popping up everywhere on the Intranet. There are many web groups that are devoted to the principals of stopping Fat Shaming and Body Acceptance. It’s about time.

See, it isn’t just about just other people accepting a person of size. It is about how you accept yourself and that is the basic principal for most of these groups. They know to change society’s  point of view will include fighting the fashion and medical-insurance worlds. They have to take on the giant media world. But at least they are starting the awareness. This will start with the individual saying “no more guilt and shame.”

This is not about  eating whatever you want. It is about being healthy at any weight. And the first thing that most people say is that if you are overweight you are not healthy. That is not true. The degree of being overweight and the abilities of the person are factors that need to be included in the overall health of a person. But to judge someone by a statistic is unfair and bias. It is how the insurance companies do it. It is how the medical profession where trained. And it is darn near impossible to change those minds.

Most of these programs work with the primary concept that people have to accept and love who they are. If you have self-compassion for yourself, you will naturally take care of yourself. Taking care of you includes eating better. It means dealing timely with health issues. It means getting the care that you need when you need it. It means dealing with stress. It means, and I think this is the most important concept, not letting people make you feel guilty and bad about being you. Do not let people define who you are.

Living in a world where being Fat has only a negative connotation is difficult. You are discriminated, ridiculed and harassed. Up to now, it has been generally accepted that it is ok to pick on the fat person. We see it in our media. Look at the characters who are the bunglers and pathetic ones in movies and TV. They are fat. Fat equals dumb.

Fat shamming will probably never go away. But I am glad that it has a foothold and people are becoming more aware. I think of all the young girls who put themselves through torture to starve themselves and end up with an eating disorder. Being overweight can be an eating disorder too, but you do not see the same empathy for someone who struggles with compulsive eating. I think about how many women think they are grossly overweight and therefore an abomination and they really are not. What do you think would happen if these women were not riddled with guilt and shame?

Getting rid of the guilt and shame to me is the most important part about this new movement. Women are easily boxed in by trying to meet society’s rules. If people are free of guilt and shame, they are able to dream and be creative and do amazing things. I know many women I work with who are so focused on everything they put in their mouths. They count calories or points and perseverate on every morsel and are bound up with such guilt that it limits them to enjoy life. There is little joy for those who are so worried about every point and calorie. Enjoying one piece of cake does not make you a horrible person. It is like being tied to bully. And organizations like Weight Watchers feed that mentality. I know this to be true as I have done WW many times only to end up frustrated and shamed. Nothing says guilt like getting on a scale in front of everyone in a group, being weighed and although they don’t say it out loud…. Failing because you did not lose a pound. OMG, I think of the subjective oppression that brought on.

Being free of food shame is very liberating. And if you really listen to your body, you will eat what you need and when you need to. But that is a hard process to learn in our world. That’s another blog.

Pay attention to this change. It is everywhere. It makes me hopeful for the next generations. It has to be a better world where every individual is important and is allowed to be free from shame and guilt. Join in this fight for freedom of guilt. A healthy body can be at any size.

Here are a couple of organization’s I am involved with:

https://benourished.org/

https://www.sizediversityandhealth.org/index.asp