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friendlyneighborhoodagenderqueer · 7 years ago

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Big Body, Big Shame

Yo internet, here’s a piece I wrote on Medium...yeah, that again, haha. Since I didn’t include images in that post, I did the old copy + paste. If you liked what you read, reblog this or/and send a heart my way!

Since being diagnosed with bipolar II, I’ve been pretty lost. When I was hypomanic, I was so giddy and was able to love myself. When I’m depressed, I hate everything about myself. I constantly compare myself to others whether it’s about people having better jobs than me or looking better than me.

I hate clothes shopping, the whole experience. Each time, I either leave with clothes to lounge around in or empty-handed. I feel embarrassed as I walk in between racks and when I see my reflection I want to escape myself. Many stores don’t carry my size in women’s sections (not that I ever find clothes I actually like) and the clothes in the men’s section don’t fit my body shape (my hips are too wide, and not in a flattering way). I hate the gender binary.

My roommate loves shopping. She always looks beautiful in anything she wears. She is thin enough to fit into clothes I could never in my wildest dreams fit in or look remotely decent in. Whenever I express how ugly I feel and think I am, she insists that it’s not true, but that never helps. The difference between us is so obvious, so how can I ever actually believe her? She doesn’t see how good she has it…not that I blame her. I just get so downtrodden when she doesn’t realize how hard it is to be fat or how it feels to hate yourself.

When we went to Old Navy, she left with two nice pairs of jeans and I left with a sporty jacket I meant to return in exchange for a larger one that would zip up. The sleeves on the bigger jacket were ridiculously wide and barely zipped, so I didn’t exchange it. I tried on one shirt and held a few shirts up to myself in front of a mirror and felt like a fool for thinking I’d even look good in any other color besides black. My mood went from fine to miserable by the time we walked back to the car. I wish my negative self-image didn’t impact my mood so much.

I think I began gaining weight after my mom died when I turned 9 years old. I coped with her absence by eating. A lot. All the adults at home were focused on working, so they didn’t notice how much pain I was in. I didn’t have friends, I was bullied by boys, I locked myself in my room well into my 20s, and my grades weren’t very good. I don’t know when I noticed my weight, but when I did, I use to measure how far out my stomach stuck out by drawing tick marks on the inside of my door like you would to measure your height. I frowned each time. Now, I cry and avoid looking at myself.

You probably know about those body shape charts (apple, pear, hourglass, etc). I don’t fit any of those. I’m a damn blob. Fat protruding all over making my small head look ridiculous. My face is losing the nice shape it use to have. I regret all the times I told myself I was too fat when I was in high school. Back then, I weighed 150 pounds up until I was 23 and then I gained weight so fast. Now, I weigh over 100 pounds more than before and I hate myself for it. I constantly wish I could throw my body away. Throw myself away.

I hate the way doctors perpetuate unrealistic, one size fits all weight standards. Their answer is always to just eat right and exercise. It goes without saying, that what doctors deem healthy is so often shaped by whiteness and the food of every other culture is viewed as unhealthy and fattening. The rest of the world sees the US as people who eat burgers, hot dogs, sweets and soft drinks…so //shrug//. What doctors constantly seem to do is shame patients and place the onus on individuals when they aren’t where they should be on the Body Mass Index scale. My chart says I am morbidly obese…nice.

Right now, I am recovering from back surgery and a sprained ankle. I also take meds for hypothyroidism and bipolar II that increase my appetite. Depression gets in the way of me mustering the motivation I need to even begin exercising. Never mind that I have a low paying job despite having my MSW and that I am currently unable to work. Being financially insecure has a real impact on what people can buy. Fresh food only lasts for so long and so called healthy food doesn’t fill me up. Just go ahead and ignore how multinational corporations infuse food with addictive ingredients. Yeah, my weight woes are entirely my fault *cough.*

My point is that there are a lot of external factors that impact mental health and our self-image. It’s a vicious cycle and mainstream culture isn’t helping by erasing fat bodies unless they are deemed pretty enough. For me, the lack of people who aren’t conventionally thin or attractive in pop culture cuts deep. It makes me feel like no one will ever love me and like I should just give up on myself. Yeah, people can say to just try harder, but my stretch marks, flab, and facial hair aren’t just going to disappear. I don’t want to keep being told how I should be by people who can’t stand to be near a fat, unattractive person (talking about myself and anyone who feels this way). I don’t want to keep wanting to escape myself. I just want a little love. I don’t think any of us who are big deserve to keep being hidden or being the butt of jokes. I hope whoever reads this feels less alone. I’m with you.

with love,

max

#bodyimage #fat #genderbinary #faterasure #hypothyroidism #depression #bipolar #size #weight

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