Everybody has demons. Everybody has issues. Everyone has been scarred and broken and bruised emotionally if not physically. Everyone has addictive tendencies of one kind or another. People are a mess. They just are. Thing is, usually, people's private, intimate, secret skeletons are just that.Private. Intimate. Secret.
We don't have that option. We wear our addiction on our sleeves. It is hard to be 305lbs and hide the fact that you have food issues. You can be a closet gambler, a closet drinker, a closet drugger, a closet abuser, a closet self-loather, a closet sex-addict...but it's tough to be a closet overeater.
Everybody knows. Everybody sees. Everywhere you go.
And then...when we've had enough...when we can't go on living like that anymore...we make one of the healthiest decisions we've ever made. We go to any lengths to salvage our lives. To get ourselves back. To mend our broken spirits and stop our destructive behavior.
Problem is, we can't hide that either. It is not normal to lose 160lbs in a year. It is not natural to have a scar from your sternum to your belly button. And when we go through these radical, drastic, almost unbelievable physical changes, our personal, private, intimate issues seem to be more obvious than ever.
I think it is because it is socially acceptable to comment on weight loss rather than weight gain. Nobody ever said to me, "Wow! you must have gained at least fifty pounds since the last time I saw you!" I have never heard, "My, your ass is awfully fat. Do you have trouble fitting in chairs?", or, "Boy oh boy, you are so big that you look like you could drop dead of a heart attack at any moment...how is your health?" (OK, so maybe my mother has come close to some of these comments, but with her food issues, she can be less than human at times.)
It is socially acceptable for our dramatic weight loss to be the topic of conversation at a party or a family gathering. People feel comfortable asking us personal questions about the process, about our diet and exercise, about our heath, about our clothing size.
I don't know about you, but I felt like a freak before I lost the weight. Now, on some days, I feel like a freak-show...on display for the world to gawk at.
But, you know what? Fuck 'em. All of 'em. I can crawl through the window of my house when I lock myself out today. I can walk the beach for hours. I can turn heads everywhere I go. I am not a slave to food anymore. I am not obsessed with it. Controlled by it. In love with it. I am free.
And sooner or later, people will get over it. They'll go about their daily business. They won't point or gawk or comment anymore. I'll finally be free to just be me. No more, no less. And my issues, my skeletons, my new ones, will be safely tucked away in my own closet...where they belong.
And I'll probably be thinking, "What is wrong with these people? don't they realize that I have climbed mountains? Slayed dragons? Defeated demons? I wish someone would say something."
1 comment:
All very true. I enjoyed the attention very much when I lost weight, I admit. It's a bit of a drug in itself, I think. It's certainly intoxicating to suddenly be found attractive by a society that ignores those who don't fit that mold. And so how does an addict avoid addiction to that sort of attention when all she's really trying to do is get healthy? See my post below on "having a baby" :):)-or maybe a whole lot of 12th step work-that helps too. I sure can relate.
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