Heavy

I’ve been a large person, a small person, and a “somewhere in between” person. I wasn’t a fat child until I was about 8 years old, when I started turning to food to cope with the bullying I faced day in and day out at my elementary school. I was born with the inclination to abuse substances, and food was my first substance, long before drugs entered the picture. I used food to soothe my anxieties. My mom was particularly bad about reinforcing the habit of using food as a reward, a celebratory thing, or often, as a “just because” thing. Treats took on less significance because I consumed them everyday. I know when I have children of my own I will have to be very careful about this since they will already be predisposed to having weight problems from genetics alone.

I was 232 pounds when I graduated from high school. I had been diagnosed with PCOS (Polycystic Ovary Syndrome) and pre-diabetes, the latter of which scared me, but evidently not enough for me to take action on my weight problem right away. I lost a few pounds my freshman year of college just by becoming a pedestrian in a hilly city, but hovered around 230 until I started my first weight loss journey at the age of 20.

I followed the Atkins diet approach, which has faced a lot of criticism but is virtually identical to keto, which gets a lot of positive acclaim. (People are stupid.) In 5 months I managed to drop 80 pounds. I consumed less than 20 carbs of net carbohydrates everyday during that time, proving to myself once again that I am capable of achieving anything I set my mind to. I was afraid of failure for so long. In the end, losing weight wasn’t as hard to accomplish as I made it out to be. The approach I chose worked really well with my natural food preferences. Choosing a plan that will work for you is half the battle in losing weight.

I lost another 20 pounds for a total of 100 pounds lost and hit my all-time low weight of 132 pounds in early 2008. The latter 20 pounds were lost through sheer starvation. I wasn’t underweight, so didn’t qualify as anorexic, but had limited myself to 700 calories per day because I heard somewhere that your body enters starvation mode at that point. Whereas I was once totally out of control with my food intake, I now limited my food intake to help me feel in control. I would often go without food for days at a time, or chew and spit out food. I was in an abusive relationship at the time and focusing on achieving the thinnest, best version of myself is what kept me occupied. It became an unhealthy obsession.

Most people laugh at fat people who claim to have eating disorders other than Binge Eating Disorder, but eating disorders do not discriminate. You don’t have to be clinically underweight to have an unhealthy relationship with food. For me, I found that no matter how much weight I lost, I was never happy with my body. I had a lot of loose skin from rapid weight loss, and it was frustrating to know I would never have a “good” body no matter which exercises I did.

I looked okay clothed, though. It’s utterly depressing hearing people compliment you on how good you look when you know the unhealthy measures you took to achieve the weight loss. If anyone knew what I had to do to remain 140 pounds, I don’t know if they would have complimented me so much.

I’m probably most comfortable hovering around 160 pounds, which is toward the high end of normal BMI for a height of 5’7”. I don’t think I was designed to be an ultra-thin person. I had to really watch what I ate to stay 140 pounds, whereas I could be a little looser at 160.

I maintained for years, but eventually gained back the weight I lost on Atkins. I also lost 100 pounds in 2013, mostly through living off of buffalo wings. But it didn’t stick either, this time because I was prescribed medications that cause significant weight gain. Thanks Latuda and Depakote. When I gained the weight back the first time, I consciously stopped watching what I ate and pretty much asked for it.

This time though, I feel less terrible about being a heavy person. I’m being gentle with myself. I don’t take pictures of myself anymore because I hate the way I look, but aside from that I get by okay. I’m not alone, unsuccessful, or otherwise desperate. I gained weight this time because I was doing something healthy — taking medications as prescribed for a disabling condition. I had no choice but to face treatment with fattening antipsychotics. Lamictal, Geodon, Wellbutrin, Topamax — I had exhausted all the medication options that don’t make you gain weight.

I also know that I can change this at any point. My motivation to change it is low, because I’m so damn comfortable where I am right now. But it’s on my near-term to-do list. As I’ve proven to myself before, all it takes is me getting my hat set on something for me to accomplish it. I am very tenacious if nothing else.

Exercise has always been a challenge for me. I know regular activity beyond the light walking and biking I do now is the missing piece in maintaining a healthy weight. I’ve found it easier to drop pounds by controlling food intake alone. I struggle with chronically low energy levels for no apparent reason beyond suffering from depression, and may never be the type of person you’ll find at the gym five days a week. Gyms in general are my worst nightmare. Mirrors everywhere so you can examine your hideous body gyrating with your movements…bros lurking and making fun of you when you attempt to use the weight machines…no fucking thanks. Gyms are places filled with anxiety for me, when I know exercise can be enjoyable in settings other than the gym. I prefer to get out and about. Yoga is something I’d like to set out to get into in the near-term. I did it when I lived near a free studio in Berkeley (you only paid for the mat rental!) and it’s the only exercise I can see myself doing regularly. Beyond walking, that is. Walking counts for a lot, though.

A journey of a thousand miles starts with just one step.

I’m not obsessed with losing weight at this particular time and it feels good to be free of that obsession for a change. That pursuit dominated my 20s. I feel more comfortable with myself in my 30s, even if overall I’m less pleased with my appearance. It’s tragic because I could be way hotter, I just don’t care enough about myself to do anything about it. My PCOS resolved, as did the pre-diabetes, and I am in decent health for being as heavy as I am. Until that changes I may not feel the motivation to change.

Having someone who loves me at my current size counts for a lot. A shoutout to the men everywhere who still got love for fatties.