Necessary Mutilation

I was born a fat white child.  Really, I was.  In 3rd grade I remember my teacher sending home a note that I had gained 30 pounds (!) that school year and that the school requested my parents’ attendance to discuss this alarming matter. Although I don’t remember this meeting being discussed or its outcome, I recall new words being used to describe me and semi-hushed conversations that made me know I must be bad.

My mother’s beloved sister, my aunt whom we visited most summers in Michigan, tended to reinforce this belief by ensuring I dieted each visit, noting with histrionic concern that I had a problem that “must be controlled.”  So, when her children and my brother were indulged with summertime goodies and vacation treats, I was taught that peanuts have 6 calories each (what’s a calorie?) - gasp! And that nobody would want to marry a fat woman.  At eight and nine years old!

By the time I might better have grasped the concept of calories and developed a comprehensive (a la the 1960s and ’70s) sense of nutrition, all I knew was that I resented the hell out of this aunt and her shaming, judgmental manner, whether intentional or not.

Unfortunately, she, both as a fashion plate herself and as an embodiment of society’s view on obesity, became the template for many others to emulate, including others who professed to love me.  Affecting not just my relationship with them, but with myself and my body as well.  Till now.  I hope.

My husband and I went out to eat tonight.  I’ve sort of been dieting (again; always; so what else is new?), sort of.  Last year I nearly gave up.  Even when my doctor threw new ideas my way (e.g., obesity clinic, medication changes) I accepted referrals but knew I was unlikely to follow up any more as I’d hit the wall.  No more, please.  Tired of trying, and mostly of failing.  I weighed over 100 pounds less in 2001 when I married my husband - and 100 pounds more than that in 1999 when I discovered Atkins and gave it my all.  And 100 pounds less than that when I dieted throughout high school and college to reach my all time low of 115 (for about 5 minutes).

So, now when I go out to eat, my best effort to diet is “sort of.”  I’m losing a little, slowly, sort of. Eating less, better choices - but can’t muster the energy or wherewithal for all-out dieting - er, lifestyle changes necessary to save me from me.  And exercise - great idea, tough reality.  Attempts; binges; joined Curves; walked; gave up; waddled; gave up; vicious circle more vicious as failing body parts sabotage further efforts.