I’ve struggled with my weight since I was sixteen and I have increasingly come to feel that my body and my health are out of control. I’ve made excuses and not applied myself; I’ve put in the effort but lost motivation. I tried a couple of weight loss programs a few times, yet never long enough nor faithfully enough to see a real change in either my habits or my weight. A year ago my doctor and I began exploring the possibility that I have PCOS; it was a relief to finally have a name for the many symptoms and experiences that I couldn’t otherwise control or explain. Yet even that wasn’t quite enough to get me moving steadily forward on the road to better health.
But I’ve had two health scares in the past few months that brought matters into sharp, unblinking focus: I am not getting better, I am not feeling good at all — not in my body and certainly not about it — and the warning messages it sends me are louder, more frequent, and more urgent than before.
What does this mean, in practical terms? Well, my doctor and I have decided to try proper therapy for the PCOS symptoms, so I’ll start there. I’ll apply the meal planning skills I learned but didn’t practice very well from my previous structured weight loss attempts. I’ll start moving every day again, whether that means a walk, yoga, cardio, or pilates. I’ll track my meals, exercise, and medication daily, as well as take progress pictures and check my measurements to see how I am doing.
It also means that I’ll have to come to terms with all the mental and emotional blocks that I have allowed to stand between me and the strong, healthy self — mind and body — that I know I am capable of building. I suspect this will be harder than the weight loss itself.
I’ve gone back and forth on the idea of posting this in such a public arena (in front of all ten of you!) for most of the evening. Because I am overweight, I am openly subjected to unwanted diet advice, scrutiny of what and how much I eat, and either outright ridicule or being treated as if I am invisible when in public. Posting this on the internets only widens the potential audience of (possibly)-well-intentioned-but-clueless folk as well as asshats whose commentary shouldn’t matter anyway.
Screw them.
I have many good people in my life who want nothing more for me than to be healthy and content in all ways, and I have a great doctor to work with despite her peculiar ideas about personal space. So while ninety-five percent of this will take place offline, I wanted to put it out here that I am taking active steps to build a healthier self. We are taught so early and so often to be ashamed of our bodies; I have nothing to be ashamed of.
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Good for you, Anna. Hang in there; remember, I want you to live a long, long time. I am looking forward to being eighty with you and griping about Reagonomics and having some young punk say, “Shit, man, how freakin’ old are you guys, anyway?” And then I can finally use my line, “Whadda you know, kid, I got a pair of shoes older than you, so shut yer damn pie hole.”
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