-Denise

When I was 14 years old and just finished cancer treatments I was puffed up like the pillsbury dough boy and extremely self conscious, my grandfather decided it was his duty to inform me that I had gotten fat. Well lets just say that 12 years later, the old f—er isn’t my favourtie grandparent.

Did you just say that out loud?

I hope he really does lose his licence now. What an ass.

Did he really put $20 in the reporter’s sweater? Because you cant’ defend that with well-timed remarks about the “obesity epidemic”

I also feel like it’s even more sketchy since he poked her in the thigh, which seems more sexual than, say, her arm. (Not that either would be appropriate, but I’m wondering if the location made her feel even more like it was crossing a line.)

And no, thigh size bears no relation to diabetes – in fact, women carrying weight below the waist have a lower diabetes risk than those carrying weight above the waist. But the highest risk is still…GENETIC PREDISPOSITION!

Doctors need to learn their place. If a person didn’t ask an opinion, DON’T GIVE IT, and don’t assume weight is the answer to everything.

I went in for a doctor’s exam because I had to get a physical for a job (I’m a size 18, folks, I eat relatively healthy, and make it to the gym three times a week pretty consistently). The health forms were extensive (it was government-related) and asked things at the end like “Do you [the doctor] think the applicant has any disabilities, visible or otherwise, that would prevent him/her from fulfilling the job?” He made a point of checking YES and writing down that I was OBESE. It later asked if I have any “mental health issues” that would prevent me from fulfilling the job. He asked if I had depression, anxiety, etc then threw in “How about failed diets? Have a lot of those?” and started to check yes. I voiced my objections and he just left it blank (didn’t check yes or no.) The final page was a physical inventory, things like “Can you climb 2 flights of stairs?” and “Can you walk on paved flat terrain for ______ distance?” I filled it out, he signed it, but wrote a big long note about how he had no proof of these things and way relying on my filling out the forms on his behalf.

Jackass.

I was a sitting duck, yes, because I WAS going in for a physical. And if I were to do it again, I’d be more vocal about my objections (I was young and didn’t want to risk him not filling it out and me not getting the job.) But still … doctors should not throw their bedside manner out the window just because someone doesn’t fit their perfect BMI chart.

Also, no life choices the person in the original article made would make bullying and rudeness OK.

I’m learning to eat mindfully (and intuitively), but I can’t learn to love myself despite of (or including) my fatness. There’s just too much hate bombarding me every day.

Last week a co-worker announced how she resented the idea of having to pay for health care for “stupid smokers and fat slobs who just stuff themselves”… in front of me. When I asked if she really thought that *I* didn’t deserve health care she backpedaled. “You eat *healthy* foods,” she protested. “I don’t mean you.” Uh, yeah, she does. They used invalid and unrealistic metrics like BMI to determine if you “deserve” to live. No one cares how I really eat – they think they know, and they evidently also think that I’m so stupid I don’t *know* I’m fat.

For the love of dog – is it really anyone else’s *business*? Are people really so perfect that they’re entitled to judge what other people can do?

:: weeps ::