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Don't Ask Me About My Weight, Please
Aug. 24th, 2009 01:12 pmHere's a disclaimer: I love my dad's family very much. They've always been there for me, financially and non-financially - my aunt lets me spend Thanksgivings with them since I can't go home, my other aunt buys me clothes every time I'm in the state, my grandmother is responsible for my love of art and opera and let me live with them for two years when I couldn't live my mom and her boyfriend anymore. They are pretty much decent people.
Here's some bitching: I hate hate HATE when they get on my case about my weight, which both my aunt and my grandma have done CONSTANTLY for the last ten years. And I know they do it with the best intentions because they worry about me and think I'm not healthy, but they seem to be under the impression that if they just nag me and lecture me and give me diet books enough some day it will randomly snap into my head that hey, I'm fat, maybe I should do something about that, and I'll start going to the gym five times a week and eating nothing but salad.
It doesn't work. It's never worked. It never will work. Because being told what to do doesn't motivate me; it just makes me dig in my heels, even against my own best interest, because you are not in charge of me and my decisions and I will screw myself over to hell and back just to prove it to you. Because being told about my "weight problem" all the time, as if it's not something I'm aware of, as if it's not something I have to deal with every day, just makes me feel guilty and stressed out and miserable. Because I CANNOT lose weight for my grandmother, or my aunt, or my mom, or the stores that don't sell my size or the girls who make me feel awkward or the guys who made fun of me in high school. I can only do it for me: for my reasons, with my plan, on my timeline. Just me.
I am working on eating better and exercising more, because I don't think I'm healthy right now and I want to change that. I'm on a not-a-diet, which basically means picking one bad eating habit every quarter (not enough veggies, too many fries, too much red meat, etc) and focusing on changing that until it's become a good habit instead. I've been losing weight, and that's good. Maybe I'll keep losing weight, and that's good too. But if I keep making these changes and get healthier and stay more or less the size I am now? That's okay too.
Telling me all the time that I need to lose weight doesn't make me want to lose weight. It just means I have to spend that much more time telling myself that being skinny won't make me smarter funnier nicer prettier less lazy less shy more popular more interesting a better human being. Because I know that's a lie. But it's a lie a lot of people I know seem to want me to believe.
(This post prompted by the fact that in the last three hours, my aunt gave me a stack of Time magazines she "thought I'd like to read" that all featured prominent articles on weight loss, and my grandma grabbing my arm while I was sitting next to her and asking me if I was gaining weight again. Grrrrrrrr. Must...not...kill...)
Here's some bitching: I hate hate HATE when they get on my case about my weight, which both my aunt and my grandma have done CONSTANTLY for the last ten years. And I know they do it with the best intentions because they worry about me and think I'm not healthy, but they seem to be under the impression that if they just nag me and lecture me and give me diet books enough some day it will randomly snap into my head that hey, I'm fat, maybe I should do something about that, and I'll start going to the gym five times a week and eating nothing but salad.
It doesn't work. It's never worked. It never will work. Because being told what to do doesn't motivate me; it just makes me dig in my heels, even against my own best interest, because you are not in charge of me and my decisions and I will screw myself over to hell and back just to prove it to you. Because being told about my "weight problem" all the time, as if it's not something I'm aware of, as if it's not something I have to deal with every day, just makes me feel guilty and stressed out and miserable. Because I CANNOT lose weight for my grandmother, or my aunt, or my mom, or the stores that don't sell my size or the girls who make me feel awkward or the guys who made fun of me in high school. I can only do it for me: for my reasons, with my plan, on my timeline. Just me.
I am working on eating better and exercising more, because I don't think I'm healthy right now and I want to change that. I'm on a not-a-diet, which basically means picking one bad eating habit every quarter (not enough veggies, too many fries, too much red meat, etc) and focusing on changing that until it's become a good habit instead. I've been losing weight, and that's good. Maybe I'll keep losing weight, and that's good too. But if I keep making these changes and get healthier and stay more or less the size I am now? That's okay too.
Telling me all the time that I need to lose weight doesn't make me want to lose weight. It just means I have to spend that much more time telling myself that being skinny won't make me smarter funnier nicer prettier less lazy less shy more popular more interesting a better human being. Because I know that's a lie. But it's a lie a lot of people I know seem to want me to believe.
(This post prompted by the fact that in the last three hours, my aunt gave me a stack of Time magazines she "thought I'd like to read" that all featured prominent articles on weight loss, and my grandma grabbing my arm while I was sitting next to her and asking me if I was gaining weight again. Grrrrrrrr. Must...not...kill...)