Thursday, June 16, 2011

Self Respect

One of my friends wrote a post regarding health, weight, eating, etc. In trying to figure out how to respond, it seemed easier for me to put some of my perspective here in my own space.

I've been fat since I was about 5. I'm not sure why or how it started, especially since I grew up in a house where whole wheat bread was the only bread and sweets were rare. I could write pages upon pages about my relationship with food, about how and why it got out of control as my life progressed, about how it has changed again in my recent history. But the most important point is that I've had a natural desire for the visceral pleasures of eating my entire life. Scientifically, there are individual differences in our biologies/genetics that affect our appetites, metabolisms, energy levels, ability to process food, tendency to store fat, etc. So not everyone has to fight against themselves to be thin. Some people just don't care about food. Some people eat a few bites of food and are perfectly satisfied, or get full on small portions. Some people's bodies tell them they've had enough before they eat too much. Some people can't stand the idea of sitting still for hours at a time. Some people would rather run around in circles than sit in one spot reading, writing, thinking. I am none of those people.

Am I supposed to spend my entire life fighting against myself?

Then there is the fact that, having grown up carrying this extra weight, my body has adapted to it more so than someone who gained a significant amount of weight as an adult and/or within a short period of time. And, despite my preference for sedentary activities my entire life, I did engage in a certain level of physical activity much of my life that kept my muscles strong and my stamina fairly high.  I rode bikes, played tag, physically chased boys, walked to school, carried heavy objects, moved furniture, played outdoor games, did yard work, pounded nails, ran up and down stairs, carried babies and children. I usually didn't mind physical activity as long as it had a practical use or provided entertainment. So I grew up to have large, strong calf muscles and relatively strong arm muscles for a girl; to be able to throw bags of soil or rocks on my shoulder and tote them all over the yard; to dig my own garden plots; to move heavy furniture by myself; to work outside for hours without a break.

I used to be able to do even more, but switching to a desk job took a toll I didn't foresee. I had never had a job where I sat all day, every day and had to spend 2 hours in the car commuting every day on top of the 8+ hours of sitting. Even now with all my garden work and winter shoveling my stamina isn't what it used to be. I used to be able to hike for hours, up and down hills like a mountain goat. The last time I tried to hike the easy trail at a mountain nearby, I had to completely give up after about 10 minutes. It was the first time in a long time I had been ashamed of my body.

See, when I was about 19 I had my obesity epiphany. Until then, I had believed what everyone else told me: that as a fatty, I wasn't good enough. Top Ten in school? Straight A's? Nice, but you're too fat to be pretty or popular. A natural with children? Responsible enough to babysit alone at age 12? Wonderful, but you're still too fat. Funny? A talented writer? An avid recycler? A good driver? Not enough. Because you're hugely fat and until you stop being fat you'll never be good enough.

I can see now that many people did actually respect and appreciate my good points, mostly adults but also some peers. I can also see now that social anxiety & self confidence problems were probably the greater cause of my continually plummeting self-esteem. I mean, I had college guys flirting with me when I was 12, and I didn't realize it. Which is probably a good thing, actually. There was this one guy who worked at my school and this one time he got mad at me when I insulted him and he told me that sometimes I acted like I was 30, but sometimes I acted like I was 3. I was elated and then crushed, and I was so angry at him and hurt: but looking back it's almost like we were having a lover's quarrel which is kind of funny and oogy at the same time and... well, uh, anyway... The point is, I had already had it so deeply embedded in my psyche that fat = bad and ugly and unlovable that I couldn't see evidence to the contrary. So when I was about 19 it finally REALLY clicked in my brain that I didn't need to wait until I was thinner to have a life, to be happy, to do the things I wanted, to be who I wanted to be. And then I began to actually believe that I deserved to be admired, wanted, and loved exactly as I was. I wasn't going to get thin in order to get a man. I was going to believe in myself, because what a good man really wants is a woman who is comfortable just being who she is. A good man wants a woman who respects herself, and I finally felt like I had some real respect for myself. So I was going to finally find a good man. Right?

Not exactly. Either the men I wanted weren't good enough for me or they were okay with my body and my self respect but turned off by the rest of my personality. I might have been able to get the attention of college guys when I was 12, but I couldn't get them to look twice at me for the ENTIRE 10 YEARS I WAS IN COLLEGE. Eventually I learned about flirting, and I had the time of my life working at the law library for 9 years. Every year I built a playful, friendly rapport with a variety of new male students, and then every year I lost a few as they graduated. But I had learned I could have fun bantering over the desk and there was no pressure. I was in heaven.

Almost. Because I still wanted love, and there were a select few from whom I desired more than bantering. Just a chance would have sufficed. I found out years later that my suspicions were correct and that one of them had been interested in me. It never would have worked, but it sure as hell would have been nice if he'd admitted it to me. Then there was the perverse, obsessive one I had to report for being too interested. That's not what I was looking for! Then there was my socially unacceptable bad boy who was my first kiss, and then turned a cold shoulder on me. Definitely for the best. But the majority of "special ones" would have made decent, acceptable boyfriends if only they had given a rat's ass about me as a woman.

So was it the body or the brain or both which caused my complete and utter lack of boyfriends all through high school, 2 undergrad colleges, and grad school? I presume I will never know. This may seem far removed from the health issues I started out with way up there at the beginning, but it's all connected. It is all connected --brain, body, heart, mind, health. What size we are now is a residual effect of everything that has ever happened to us. And self respect has a lot to do with overall health.

So remember that hike that left me ashamed? I really hated that feeling. I had finally met The Right Man, who was so absolutely perfect for me that I can almost forgive all the other men in my life for not having been good enough to be him. He was with me on that hike, and I'm pretty sure he didn't love me any less or feel ashamed of me because I couldn't climb a mountain. And while on one level that meant the world to me, I still had to contend with myself. Eventually, my increasingly tight pants and weariness after only light physical exertion prompted me to eat a bit better and start going for walks on my breaks. I wasn't trying to lose weight, I was trying to regain some physical fitness. And I was trying to regain some self respect. Because even during my low-confidence childhood and teen years, I wasn't completely filled with self loathing. The feelings of insecurity and doubt were usually going head to head with an incredible amount of pride. I loved myself for being able to do the things I did extremely well. And I think that was what made it so devastating when other people made fun of me or told me I needed to change or told me (through words or their actions) I wasn't good enough. Part of me knew they were wrong, but the other part of me thought that my one voice against so many others must be mistaken.

So where does that leave me now? Well, now the demons I fight with are psychological and philosophical. Sometimes I would still like to be thinner and I worry about my health. But I'm convinced of several things:

1) I will never be thin due to a combination of genetic factors, personal biochemistry, and the accumulated adaptations of my body over time to my lifelong obesity.
2) My psychological issues are currently doing the most damage to my health via continual stress, anxiety, and almost complete loss of any inner peace I ever had achieved previously.
3) While my blood sugar and cholesterol are annually monitored and are on the verge of being "bad," while I'm pretty sure my blood pressure during work hours is too high, while I choose to take medication to regulate certain biochemical/hormonal functions, and while I have chronic sinus problems, I am still essentially healthy. On my first visit to the dentist after 11 YEARS, my new dentist was floored. She said she would have guessed that it had only been 6 months since my last check-up and cleaning and that I must have an absolutely amazing immune system. Almost all of my multiple blood tests for the past 3 years have failed to reveal anything of major concern. I may eat too much, too much of the wrong things, and not quite enough of the right things, but at least I'm ingesting enough of the right things to keep the nutritional baselines decently covered.

Will this change as I age? Possibly. Do I wish I could figure out how to find a form of exercise that was fun and interesting and didn't bore me to tears? Yes. Do I wish the circumstances of my life made it easier to work time in for any exercise? Hell yes. Do I think I should eat "better" for environmental reasons because my eco-soul feels guilty? Yes. Do I believe that giving up food I like and forcing myself to do exercise I don't like will make me happier and healthier? Absolutely not. Because I've done it, and if you think you've seen me bitchy, you ain't seen nothing until you've seen me during one of those "I'm going to get healthy" phases.

Now, having said all that, I realize I only see things this way because I can. I don't have serious medical conditions that require me to give up foods I love or risk death. Some may argue that if I continue living the way I do, I will someday have those conditions. I'm not convinced. There's actually no medical proof that such an end is assured for me. Which makes me a really shitty source of support for friends who do have serious medical conditions. I don't know that I have any help to offer. I can't tell someone else how to get motivated to exercise, because I haven't the faintest clue. Exercise doesn't make me happy. (Unless, of course, it does. I've been wanting to get a bicycle. But for 6 months out of the year I can't ride it here, I don't know where the heck I'd store it, and I don't even know where I would ride it. Streets aren't safe and traffic would turn what is supposed to be a relaxing activity into a frigging nightmare. I have a treadmill that doesn't fit anywhere except facing a wall. I don't have time after work to go for walks, which are again, not really feasible half the year when the sidewalks are icy deathtraps. Anyway, I'm not being helpful at all here. Again.)

Truly, the hardest part about changing the way you think about food, exercise, health, etc., is finding the right source of inspiration and help. I have profiled hundreds of health-related guidebooks and memoirs over the past 4+ years, and I've made a note of the titles of probably less than 1% of them because they were the only ones in which the attitude, voice, and ideas clicked with me. I'm sure the others have inspired and helped lots of other people, but they wouldn't have done me one iota of good because there was no connection.

And now that I've rambled all over my life and everywhere else, done no one any good except a little for myself, and have stayed up past my bedtime, I'm declaring this a failed attempt to help a friend but a somewhat successful post for my own blogging purposes. Oy.

2 comments:

  1. Not a total fail, dear. I agree with your statement about finding the right motivation - that is definitely key. I just want to know that when I get together with friends that they will support me when I make healthy choices and not encourage me to make unhealthy ones. Example: I told a friend the other night that I had a large salad for dinner and some frozen pureed fruit for dessert. She responded with "Oh, that sounds... awful!" Now, seriously, I don't need to hear that. It was all pretty tasty, actually, but hearing her disapproval started making my brain go haywire and all of the sudden I was in the mood for chocolate cake. Which thankfully I did not have around me. If I were bitching about having the salad that'd be one thing, but I was proud of myself for making that choice yet allowed her to totally deflate me because she didn't approve. Ultimately MY problem, but it's easier when friends support you and your choices. Which I'm sure you would do. So, not a total fail. :)

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  2. I understand. I have always hated it when people felt like they needed to make negative comments about my eating choices. In fact, it often had the opposite effect. Saying, "Are you really going to eat all that?" or "Do you really need seconds?" just made me more determined to eat it all or to have seconds and maybe even thirds even if it was just to prove that nobody tells me what to do.

    If my friends mention eating healthy, I'm glad for them and admire their choice. And if I have any thoughts about how I wouldn't do that, I try to keep it to myself. I also don't try to coerce people into joining me if I'm making a less-than-healthy choice. I no longer need to make sure other people are also doing the same thing in order to not feel bad about my decisions.

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