We take a break from our regularly scheduled program for an important PSA: I know I’m fat. Please stop mentioning it.
There’s a reason your mama taught you not to ask about a woman’s weight. Bringing up someone’s weight is widely considered rude, but it can also harm their mental health. Since it’s impossible to know if someone struggles with body image, weight is a topic that must be dealt with wisely.
It seems more acceptable to bring up someone’s weight in our society now that the medical community is raising awareness of the health problems associated with obesity. Many people bring up weight because they truly want others to be healthy. While they may have good intentions, I believe it’s best to not single a person out because of their weight (unless you’re their doctor, of course.) If someone wants help becoming healthy, they’ll seek help. Unsolicited advice is rude and not likely to be taken.
Some background knowledge about me: I have always struggled with my weight. For as long as I can remember, I have been fat. At times, I have lost a lot of weight and made healthy lifestyle changes. My mental health always takes a bad turn and my progress has been undone several times.
For someone like me, who grew up being reminded about my weight almost every day, there is no good comment about my weight. Here are some examples of things that have been said to me: 1) Wow, you look less fat. 2) You know, you could lose 20 pounds if you stopped drinking soda. 3) What have you been eating? (This began a conversation where the person insisted that I had recently gained an impossible amount of weight–she basically accused me of hiding a pregnancy.) 4) You’re getting an hour glass shape! 5) You’re so thick; you’re perfect. (I cried for two days.) 6) I can see your progress! 7) Wow you look good! 8) Wow you’re looking healthy! 9) I have some pants that I bet would fit you. (The pants were four sizes too big for me.) 10) You should try keto. 11) You should try Plexus; it really helped me slim down. 12) You should make healthier choices. 13) You’re not on a diet (said accusingly after I informed her that I was.)
For me, all the derogatory comments, backhanded compliments, and even genuine compliments sound the same. You see, it doesn’t matter what you say about my weight, because my brain interprets it all the same way: You’re fat and worthless. You could be my best friend and give me the most genuine compliment on my weight, but I will still hear that I’m fat and worthless. Lots of people with negative self image react the same way as I do. You could argue that we shouldn’t, but that doesn’t change the way we feel. You can’t change our brain chemistry or our prior life experience.
The reason commenting on my weight–on anyone’s weight–is rude, is because you don’t know what’s going on in anyone’s brain except your own. You don’t know who has struggled with negative self image, body dysphoria, eating disorders, or medical problems that cause weight gain (or medical problems that require medicine that causes weight gain.)
I’ve been injured almost constantly since 11th grade. I broke my ankle and it didn’t heal correctly. Cue years of pain when walking and frequent sprains. I dislocated my neck in 12th grade. I stepped on a rusty wire that had to be cut out of my foot my freshman year of college. Once I healed enough to work out again, I made lots of progress. Then, the comments started pouring in. Some backhanded compliments were obviously meant to tell me I was still overweight. Genuine compliments got mixed up in my head with the PTSD and depression and my brain interpreted them incorrectly. I lost motivation. I felt like it didn’t matter how healthy I got; I would always be fat, ugly, and worthless.
In the middle of my battle with these thoughts, a guy tried to rape me. I decided that night that I would stop working out. I felt like I had become a target because of my new and improved body. Maybe the workout that firmed my glutes was the reason he had tried to rape me? Obviously, looking back, I can see that my logic was flawed. Even at the time, some part of me knew that it wasn’t my fault he had tried to rape me, but trauma does strange things to the human brain.
My brain is healing slowly. Most days, I feel like I’m probably at least as sane as the people around me. Other days, my trauma and depression come rearing their ugly heads, and I must embrace my crazy to face them head-on. I stopped running from my trauma. My trauma hits like a witch (old, and frail, and definitely-not-a-curse-word.) I learned coping mechanisms (and got rid of a couple of things I used to use as coping mechanisms) and I will win the war.
I married the love of my life, who doesn’t quite understand, but tries really hard to help. Together, we began a journey to health. We’re eating better. We’re getting active. We’re encouraging one another and battling whatever comes up together. I had a setback when I broke my ankle (again), and I was prepared to go through all the pain I went through the first time. Fortunately, it seems to be healing much better this time. It won’t fully heal for about a year, but as long as I keep it realistic, I can work out. I ran for the first time in a long time in November.
My husband is helping me work through it and allowing me to set the pace. My lung capacity is improving (a big deal, because I also have asthma). My legs are toning up. My blood sugar is going crazy. I’m surrounded by people making New Year’s resolutions and asking me how I plan to lose weight this year (even though I do not make resolutions and do not discuss weight loss with these people.) It’s a stressful time.
Because of my struggles with mental health and my weight, making healthy choices for my body often results in negative consequences in my brain. Every time I eat a healthy snack, order a healthier option at a restaurant, go walking, or pop in a yoga video, my brain screams at me, “you’re fat and ugly and worthless and you’re stupid if you think you can change that.” I have to fight that battle daily if I want to get healthy. It’s exhausting, and the last thing I need is to be reminded of my weight by someone who has no business commenting on my weight.
Last week, when my boss stood in front of us and said “I want all of you to participate in this weight loss challenge. You’re leaders and students are watching you make unhealthy choices,” all of these feelings and more came crashing down around me. Outwardly, I nodded in agreement. Inwardly, I screamed, “I will never be good enough. I am fat and ugly and worthless and always will be.”
Losing weight is easy. Not losing my mind is exhausting.
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