fat | BulgingButtons

July 26, 2015
by BulgingButtons 6 Comments

If Only I Would Listen to Myself

One of the beautiful things about having a blog is that you have a record of where you’ve been what you’ve been thinking about. I know where I am now, and honesty, I’m not exactly thrilled about this place. I’m not entirely certain how I got here or why I’m here, but regardless, here I am.

I’m at a place where I know I need to get my butt in gear (again) and overcome inertia. It’s a familiar place, and in some ways it’s comfortable, but it’s unproductive, and I know it. So what to do?

Well, for one thing I just managed to give myself a quick little motivational pep talk (is that redundant? I don’t care.) by simply reading some old posts. WordPress does this brilliant thing where they take the content of a post and guess at some other posts that might be related. Today, as I was making an edit to yesterday’s post about my physical, I not only noticed the linked articles, but I clicked on one. I’m glad I did.

It took me to a post I wrote when I was in a similar situation to the one I’m in now. I was dealing with all time highs on my medical chart and a feeling of being overwhelmed. Some old, same old, right? Except that I had some good advice for myself. I came to the conclusion that I should treat myself at least as well as I treat my friends. I don’t beat them up for their mistakes. I don’t love them less if they’ve gained a few pounds or missed a couple of doses of medication. I love them anyway, and I support them. I can do that for myself too. I need to. And so do you. We need to be our own best cheerleaders, focusing on the positives and bolstering ourselves up when the going gets tough. Cheerleaders don’t quit when their teams are down, they redouble their efforts to encourage them. Let’s do that for ourselves and each other. Are you ready? Go Team!

July 25, 2015
by BulgingButtons 2 Comments

The Dreaded Physical

I did it. I went to the doctor for my annual physical and I did all the stuff I was supposed to do. Well, actually not ALL, but most of it.

Let me explain. I go to a medical group where there is a huge focus on wellness and preventative care. They have LOTS of different machines and an in-house lab and all sorts of ways to assess your health. That is generally a good thing, but each year for my physical they order all these tests that really don’t change from year to year, and they don’t change what the doctor will tell me. He will tell me what he always tells me, “lose weight and some of these other things will take care of themselves.”

Now you have to understand that I’m generally quite healthy. I know that being an adoptee puts a giant question mark into my medical chart, but in fairness I get a yearly pap, a yearly mammogram, and bloodwork done quarterly. Some of the other tests and procedures are just not medically necessary (so says my health care provider, and I agree). A healthy person doesn’t need a resting metabolic rate test each year, or an annual chest x-ray.

I felt a weight lifted off me, because typically their procedure for a physical lasts about 3 hours, and that doesn’t include the appointment 2 weeks later to discuss all the results. I was in and out in about an hour and a half, including the mammogram, so that wasn’t bad.

I also felt better about it than usual because of my trusty towel. How could a towel help me? Well I decided that I’ve had enough of sticking to the paper that covers the exam table and then shredding it as I scoot down to the edge of the table for the exam. I get shreds of paper all over my backside, and I end up on the vinyl cover of the table itself, which is what the stupid paper cover is supposed to prevent. Enough. This time I brought along a clean towel from my linen closet and placed in on top of the exam table before I sat down. When it came down to scoot there was no sticking or tearing, and my dignity (what was left of it) remained in tact. Next I need a cape.

A cape, you ask? Yes. You see the mammogram lady (who is contracted through a separate company, so she does things a little differently) had these wonderful cotton capes. The design was similar to a Christmas tree skirt, with your head being the tree, of course. It was soft, modest, and easy to move out of the way for the exam. I need to make myself one to replace the paper vest that the doctor’s office provides.

The paper vest is another humiliation that I just don’t need in my life anymore. First off, it doesn’t cover anything on this body, so as I’m waiting for my exam I sit sort of hunched and cowering. Secondly, somehow I managed to split the thing right down the back. Well, it is paper. So now instead of a vest, I have two completely separate pieces of paper around my shoulders covering my sides and little else. Never again. I’m going to make an examination cape and that will solve that.

These types of appointments are uncomfortable enough, without being made worse by the humiliation of being exposed and subjected to conditions that are awkward and unpleasant. With a few small modifications, I can make myself so much more at ease, and hopefully reduce some of the stress that I associate with my yearly exam. What do you do to help put yourself at ease at the doctor’s office?

July 14, 2015
by BulgingButtons 1 Comment

Just Because I’m Fat Doesn’t Mean I’m a Victim

Stuff happens. Sometimes there’s a reason for it and other times there isn’t. Some people are dealt an awful hand in life. I feel for them. Fortunately, I am not one of those folks.

Ok, I’ve had some sad things happen in my life, and some difficult things. There have been things that are beyond my control, and other things that were the result of my own poor decisions. I think most people can say the same. The thing is, those experiences don’t define me. They help shape who I am and how I approach the world, but I don’t get on a soapbox and shout at the world, “look at me and all that I’ve endured!”

Now please don’t think I’m heartless. I’m not. There are people in this world who have faced heartbreaks far greater than any I’ve endured. Are they entitled to anger, sadness, grief? Of course. But recently I’ve noticed a wave of “boo hoo, poor me, I’m fat and someone was mean to me” types of posts. I’m sorry, but being fat doesn’t even scratch the surface of life events for which to pity someone. Besides that, why do people seek pity?

Compassion I understand. Pity, on the other hand, makes no sense. Pity is degrading as it implies that a person is powerless. I feel compassion for people who face difficulties, particularly ones that are not of their own making. That doesn’t mean I don’t wish others well as they take on new challenges, on the contrary, I’m a great cheerleader. I do it all the time. You want to earn a degree so you can get a better job? Fantastic! You’re trying to eat better to improve your health? Good for you! But you want me to feel sorry for you because you wear plus sized clothing? Um, nope. Compassion, yes; pity, no.

I get it. It’s no fun clothing shopping. I’ve lamented about it often enough on this blog, but that doesn’t mean that I want your pity. I don’t. I want options. I want decent clothing at an affordable price. I want sales staff that don’t look down their noses at me. But pity? Nope.

Yes, I’ve been supremely frustrated shopping, and it’s happened more than once. Usually the frustration I feel is leveled at myself when I can’t find what I want, or nothing fits. I don’t go on a rant, and I don’t think the whole world is out to get me. And let’s face it, the clothes I wear ARE really big. A couple of average sized adolescent girls COULD fit into one of my tops. So what?

It doesn’t make me any less intelligent, any less beautiful, any less kind. I don’t love the size I wear, and sometimes I forget to love the body I’m in, but dammit, it’s my body, and it serves me well. This body carries me around and sleeps and wakes for me. It houses my brain and my heart and my soul. This body houses the person who works with kids and helps them to become successful when learning difficult concepts. This body houses the person who is truly loved by a wonderful family. This body houses a person with wonderful friends who share life’s ups and downs. This body houses the person who has challenged herself to reach difficult goals and has achieved them. What difference does it make to you if my body weighs 98 pounds or 298 pounds? Why do you care? You don’t. At least most of you don’t, because you have your own “stuff” to worry about.

The people who are obsessed with making rude comments about others’ appearance are emotionally stunted. Sure, you can cloak snide comments in a veil of “I’m worried about your health,” but honestly, that’s between my health care provider and me, thank you very much. It’s none of your business whether I have conditions or illnesses. I wouldn’t ask you your health history, or make assumptions based on your size or weight, so please don’t do the same to me. Fortunately, I don’t see that type of thing on this blog, but goodness knows there’s been a lot of it all over the interwebs lately, and frankly it’s tiring. Fat people are starting to look like a bunch of spineless cry babies, and as a feisty fat chick I sort of resent that.

If you want to talk about body issues, go ahead, but please stop playing the victim every time some callous jackass makes a rude remark. Yes, I know it hurts. Yes, I know it’s embarrassing. But really, I already know I’m fat. Some idiot pointing out that fact to me is hardly grounds for me to take to the internet to let the world know how mean some people can be.

Here’s the deal. Some people are fat and some people aren’t. Some people are nice and some people aren’t. I wish we (and by we I mean humans) would stop letting others bully us into a victim mentality. I am not a victim. I am a strong, intelligent, beautiful person. Yes, I also happen to be fat. Deal with it.