I don't know how much I weigh since I haven't owned a scale for many years. I have a doctor's appointment on Monday and I will find out. But I know this: I weigh more than 200 pounds. I wasn't sure I was going to write that, but for those of you who haven't met me in person, I wanted to be as honest as I can in giving you a picture. For better or worse, this is the body I live in.
If you follow me past the squiggle, I'll tell you what it's like to live in my body.
KosAbility is a community diary series posted at 5 PM ET every Sunday and Wednesday by volunteer diarists. This is a gathering place for people who are living with disabilities, who love someone with a disability, or who want to know more about the issues surrounding this topic. There are two parts to each diary. First, a volunteer diarist will offer their specific knowledge and insight about a topic they know intimately. Then, readers are invited to comment on what they've read and/or ask general questions about disabilities, share something they've learned, tell bad jokes, post photos, or rage about the unfairness of their situation. Our only rule is to be kind; trolls will be spayed or neutered
Facts about living in my body: When I went to Netroots Nation in 2009, I had a long walk at the airport where I changed planes. My feet not only hurt, they swelled up, and remained sore and swollen until I had been home about a week. Cutting my toenails was a major production - my belly would get in the way, I would have to reach around it and try to look around it at the same time. The process made me breathless and sweaty. I seldom managed both feet at the same time.
Getting out of a chair, I would automatically boost myself with my shoulders and arms. When I sat on the floor or kneeled, I could not get back up without support. I could not sit with my legs together, let alone cross them. These things have improved, since I have lost about 25 pounds each of the past two years.
I still get rashes that are itchy and painful in the folds under my breasts and under my belly. I use more cream to treat them than most people - it has to cover a larger area.
I live in this body; I own it. But I am not my body. It is part of who I am, but I am quite a lot besides.
People do not always see that. In fact people often overlook everything about fat people except that they are fat. Obesity is a problem. It is a national crisis. On the news, this national crisis is often illustrated by showing bellies and butts walking down the street. Not people. Bellies and butts. Fat people are photographed less often showing their faces. Faces would make us people.
Fat people are responsible for skyrocketing health care costs. We are a drain on the nation's economy. You know the old saying "Everyone talks about the weather, but no one does anything about it?" Well, with us the reverse is true: everyone wants to do something about obesity, but nobody wants to talk about it.
Oh, it's okay to talk about losing weight. That, after all, is doing something about it. But the swollen feet, the difficulty getting to a standing position, the rashes that develop in the folds of flesh - nobody talks about that except in fat jokes. The assumptions people make about you, the way you feel eating in public, the way people look at you when you slide past their seats in the movie theater - nobody talks about that. The way you feel when you see yourself in a mirror or a photograph, which is not so far from what others feel - nobody talks about that. The way you don't fit in some chairs, or can't turn around in a bathroom stall - nobody talks about that.
About that last - I was once at an all-day lobbying training at the state capitol. We were all advocates for the disabled, either disabled ourselves or parents of disabled children. The bathroom near the hotel ballroom we were using had stalls I could barely fit into. I did manage to turn around and sit, but I was sweating from the effort. In most instances, I would use the wheelchair stall if it was not occupied, but with that group of people I felt that I couldn't. And I told some of the people that I also needed some accomodation, and they looked as if they had never thought of such a thing before, though some other women said they had noticed the smallness of the stalls and wondered about it.
We are lazy, have no self-discipline; we gross people out, disgust them, they can't look at us, have no patience with us. We would not be this way if only we would eat right and excercise. I have seen these things written here. And even with other fat people, we don't talk about it.
A confession - I always notice people's weight. Whether I am fat or thin, or whether I just think I am fat, it is just the same. All through my childhood, the family talked about my weight. And yet... One of my aunts once bought me a "chubbette" dress. It didn't fit me. It never occurred to her or anyone else that it didn't fit me because I wasn't that chubby. I thought it didn't fit because of something wrong with me. I look at photographs from my childhood and wonder why we all thought I was fat. And yet other people thought so too.
My pediatrician put me on a diet at 18 months old. One of my therapists over the years asked me when I told this to her, "Didn't your mother know how to feed you?" My guess is that she didn't. I have been on and off diets all my life. Some 15 years ago I realized that I had never bought clothes that fit me unless I was thin. As a child clothes were bought a little large so I would "grow into them" or a little tight so they would fit when I "lost a few pounds." When I figured this out, I began dressing the body I had.
Weight is one of the few things strangers feel they can come up and talk to you about. Strangely, another is having a child who is misbehaving in public. Perhaps they think being fat is a kind of misbehavior. Fat people are less likely to be hired or promoted. People don't look us in the eye. We are the last group it is politically correct to derogate openly. People think they are being helpful.
Recently a couple of pictures of me showed up in photo diaries about Netroots Nation. I thought, "I look so fat!" But I was with friends in both pictures who I know are true friends and I looked happy to be there. I was happy to be there. If that was what I looked like, so be it. It is often uncomfortable living in this body - the rashes and sweats and swollen feet when I walk or climb stairs are not pleasant either to have or to discuss. But I think we need to open the discussion.
3:05 PM PT: I need to go for a couple of hours. I will be back then.
Thanks for putting this on the rec list.
6:09 PM PT: I'm back. What a wow for me. The only other time I was on the rec list it was so brief I missed it. Going to read all the comments not. I'm glad the conversation kept going.
6:58 PM PT: Of course I meant now instead of not.