I have a friend who once told me that I looked better at 180 pounds than I did at 120. I don’t think I ever loved him more than in that moment. He lives overseas and we don’t exchange pictures much, so the difference between when I last saw him here in 1998 and went to visit in 2014 would have been stark.
Like many people, both men and women, I have thought I was fat for most of my life, even when I wasn’t. My body dysmorphia was strongest in high school when, even though I was at a healthy weight, I kept trying to lose more by manipulating my insulin regimen. This is actually an eating disorder. But when my standard of living was overtly threatened by my behavior (diabetes complications), I straightened up and developed a healthier approach.
I bounced up and down a bit after that, and two events triggered extreme ups – my mom’s death and a situation at work that killed my regimen. Since I eat my feelings, these events were hugely damaging. The first time, I managed to claw my weight down through a lot of hard work, but I still haven’t managed it the second time. I am fat now.
I put no value judgment on that. I don’t think I’m ugly. I don’t think I am worthless. I do think my body hates it. In fact, I know it. I can feel how much harder my body has to work to keep me functional. My lab numbers may be good – surprisingly so – but I am exhausted after doing things that I wouldn’t have given a second thought five years ago and most of my drug dosages have had to be doubled, at least, to keep those numbers good.
I don’t want that to be the rest of my life. It makes me feel less in control. I try to keep the chemicals I have to inject or ingest to a minimum, and I know that right now they are higher than they have been at any other point in my life, including after meningitis. I don’t want that, either.
In the last several years, the Big Is Beautiful/body positivity movement has pushed for larger people, especially women, to accept, and even embrace, their sizes, which is a great first step toward addressing psychological health and discrimination.
Sadly, I will never be able to support that way of thinking. Our bodies are incredible, finely tuned machines that have the ability to adapt to many situations. But as with any machine, the more you use it at its top setting, the more likely you are to shorten the life of the machine. I want to live as long as I can. I want to play with the nine kids I am fortunate enough to be close to. I want to achieve my career goals. I want to save enough to update my apartment into my perfect oasis. The longer I allow myself to stay at this weight, the less likely it is that I will be able to do all of that.
Because of my mindset, I know I will never be able to accept my weight as I am now. To be clear, I don’t want to be thin. As my friend pointed out, thin does not suit my frame. I want to be healthy. So, I will fight my ingrained tendencies until my body tells me I have achieved a weight that allows it to function without drag.
While I work on that, I am happy to say that big is indeed beautiful, but I am not sure it can be healthy, and I know it’s not for me.