Weight, Weight, Don't Tell Me

I originally started writing a blog last year because I wanted to chronicle my attempts to lose weight. I had named it "Weight, Weight, Don't Tell Me". All you radio-philes will get that reference. The following is what I wanted to say about that.

On Hydroxicut

I really *dislike* it when  fat people are made fun of. It's like, You sad, pathetic loser, why can't you "push yourself away from the table" and lose weight? You are a pock on society and it would be better if you would just disappear under the earth until you get over whatever laziness is keeping you fat, you disgusting piece of crap. Well, at least that's what I hear whenever fat people are made fun of, or whenever my own weight is brought up. Most of  my family knows not to discuss my weight with me. It has been a lifelong issue. When I was little, I felt ashamed and mostly confused why clothes didn't look the same on me as they did on my thinner friends, in middle school I believed there was something wrong with me - I literally believed I was disfigured, in high school things started coming into focus and I no longer believed I was a mutant, but I continued to describe myself as fat, even though I really wasn't. I started college and gained my obligatory Freshman 15 (plus another 15), and then I dropped out of college and started taking Hydroxicut and lost 25 pounds. I felt awesome, but did feel a twinge guilty I had used pills that could have potentially sent me into cardiac arrest. Then I got pregnant, so out went the Hydroxicut and in came 60 pounds of "baby" weight gain. After David was born, I lost a good 20 and was left with 40. I felt like the most disgusting blob ever and to top that off, my stomach looked like someone spun my stomach in the air a few times like pizza dough, then threw it in the middle of I-5 and let a few Mac trucks run over it. About two years after David was born, I started seeing a "life coach". I was 175 pounds and 24 years old. I felt gross. I lost about 25 pounds and felt a lot better. I bounced between 150 and 160 for a few years and became pregnant with Roman. Plus one child and plus 15 pounds. I got back down to 160 and was totally motivated to keep going when I found out I was pregnant with Nora. I was so devastated that my weight loss would have to be put on hold until after she was born. The anger of getting sidetracked with my weight loss prompted me to really get serious about losing weight after Nora. When I got home from the hospital I weighed 180, and by June I weighed 158. Between June and October I lost another 14 pounds. I had never been able to lose that amount of weight that fast before, and I felt invincible. I prematurely thought that I had finally found the cure to my "fatness". But by November, the holiday goodies and the debilitating depression of our financial situation sent me searching for something to bring me happiness. That search has lead me to an additional 14 pounds. *shakes fist in the air* Food is happiness. Food is love. Food is what you do to bring families together. When family is together, (generally) there is lots of love and lots of love equals happiness. See how that works? Food is where my happiness can be found, when everything else that brings happiness (ie: financial security, love, confidence) has gone M.I.A.

I can trace this way back. When I was little, my parents divorced, my dad moved away, and my mom was running a small business that really only made money during the warm months. We spent the cold months like squirrels, living off what we'd gathered in the spring, summer, and a little bit of the fall. It was just me and my mom for about six years after my parents divorced. She was busting her butt to make her business feed, clothe and house us, so I spent a lot of time alone. I cooked my first meal by myself when I was 6 (chicken strips fried in oil), I started making my own school lunches at 7, and by middle school/high school, I was completely dependent on creating food out of whatever monster sized box of food my mom purchased at Costco. Food was my distraction, food was my "company". In 1st grade I was lean, and by 2nd grade, I changed. I didn't think much about how I looked until one day, a male member of my family informed me I was fat. He grabbed a roll from my 8 year-old stomach and compared it to the tiny pinch of skin on the stomach of my 5 year-old step-brother. I felt embarrassed and ashamed. I didn't know how or why I had more of a handful of skin than my step-brother, but obviously, it wasn't OK. After 6th grade the same family member put me on a diet for a few weeks that summer. I don't remember much about the diet, other than holding my nose shut so I could force myself to eat the canned beets that were on the diet plan, only being able to drink water and iced tea, and having to abstain from snacking while I sat next to my brothers who split a jumbo sized popcorn while we watched "Rookie of the Year" in the theater. I did lose weight that summer, and of course, I gained back most of what I'd lost during the school year. I also gained an incredible about of shame. I wasn't good enough unless I was thin. That has stuck with me most of my life. Whether that shame came from the fact that that family member's methods were archaic and asinine, or whether I have a predisposition for being a pansy is debatable. Either way, I was scarred.

7 year-old thin Rachel

8 year-old "fat" Rachel

I have matured a bit over the years. Despite all my ups and downs with weight, certain things put me in a better mindset. 1) when I met David, never before had a man told me I was beautiful. I didn't believe him at first, but even when I gained 60 pounds and looked like a bloated beached whale, and he still thought I was beautiful did I realize he wasn't lying. He believed I was good enough and pretty enough, even though I wasn't thin, 2) I started taking a look around: a lot of people I love and who I think are warm, loving, and awesome are not all thin. Good people, even good enough people, come in all shapes and sizes. 3) I realized that I don't have the same body as a tall, lean Gap model: I'm a child-bearing woman in my 30's who thinks that an over-priced beer and a basket of nachos at a sporting event is one of the most delicious food combinations ever. Therefore, I have a stretched out tummy and a  pooch, because I enjoy the "finer" things in life. "Fat" people not only come in many different shapes and sizes, they also come in different mindsets. Who knows where they've come from or where they are in their life right now, but I can guarantee that most of them have experienced pain at some time that causes them to seek happiness in food.  

No Hydroxicut, just lots of love.

The reason it is so important to me that people start to change the way they look at fat people is because I have a little boy who has always been my "biggest" boy. He weighed 9 pounds, 5 ounces when he was born and he has maintained a steady weight gain that keeps him in about the 90th percentile, overall, for his age.  He's taller than his brother was at 4, but his body is stockier. He has my body-type, built like a brick, or a Hobbit if you will; albeit, a tallish Hobbit. He loves to eat, too. I have to be very careful about how much he eats, but he does love vegetables and fruit. He also loves to play and be outside. I am the most protective of him, because he is my gentle giant. Well, both of my boys are sensitive, but he is the most sensitive. I will never let anyone, family member or stranger, belittle my boy because of the size of his tummy. He and David and Nora are my joys, my little loves. I am not just protective of them, I am protective of all children who are heavy. They are the ones most scarred by criticism of their weight. Let them learn, let them grow, they may change, they may find out that eating better and playing outside feels better than eating junk and playing video games. But, they will definitely never feel good about themselves if someone implants shame in their heads; if they believe they are not good enough if their stomach is not small enough.