Tuesday, January 29, 2013

Dear "Normal Weight", I Hate You

Yes, I hate you. You make me feel mightily inadequate. You make me feel like my husband isn't attracted to me. You make me feel like life isn't worth living until I've acquired you. You make me feel like people are just treating me like a charity case and don't really like me. You've driven many people to eating disorders or, even better, suicide.

You make me want to go into my local grocery store with stickers that say, "Don't eat this crap--love yourself instead!" and stick them on diet items.

But I'm here to expose you for what you are: You're an arbitrary set of numbers decided by a life insurance adjustor in the 40's. Some measure for health you are.

I got sidetracked again. I put my fat acceptance books on the shelf and started worrying about weight loss again. This paleo/PCOS book put me over the top. Apparently the author felt fat at a size 9, but now that she's a size 3 she's "healthy". I wonder about the mental health of any adult woman who measures her size in juniors' sizes (odd numbers) instead of women's sizes (even numbers), but that's neither here nor there.


That's not to say that my mission to ditch sugar is ignoble--I like my feet and want them to stay attached to my body. I just don't hold out hope for losing weight while I do it. Dropping gluten did me a world of good and caused me to drop 15 pounds in a year without a shred of effort (if you exclude the effort of not being able to eat bread), but I'm still the same size (a glorious size 22). I expect to be in that size range forever. But I don't think that just being fat has destined me to diabetes--my sugar habit, on the other hand, might. 

So eff you, "normal weight". Now I'm off to find jeans that don't fall off when I stand up and ... maybe ... make some stickers ....

1 comment:

LSB said...

I like that sticker idea, need lots of them! ;D