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February 4, 2009

Filed under: Uncategorized — thirdxlucky @ 9:22 pm

I weighed myself.

I’m not sure what possessed me to do it.

I am not freaking out too bad. But I am freaking out a little bit.

I’ve been gaining weight steadily since…well, probably for my whole life, actually…but basically without a break since last February. (In other words, the last time I lost weight was when I did the crazy lemonade fast thing.) I’ve gained about 30 lbs in the past year – roughly fifteen before I came to the Ice and another fifteenish since I’ve been here. In the past year I’ve also gained a much deeper acceptance of my body, a familiarity with fat politics, and less insane relationship with food. The Fantasy of Being Thin still haunts me, but not nearly as bad as before – and now, at least, what’s left of it is merely The Fantasy of Being Thinner.

I know that I’m unhealthy right now because I live in fucking Antarctica and the institutional environment here is meat-grinderesque. I wasn’t healthy over the summer because I was working/commuting 12 – 15 hour days of mostly sitting at a desk or on a bus. I’ve got plenty of non-weight related signals, both physical and psychological, telling me that I’m in less than tip-top shape. Meanwhile, I do believe that at least some of my weight gain in the past year must have been healthy, because it came after I cut down on my insane disordered eating behaviors.

Still. I’m kinda freaking out. 30 lbs in one year seems like a lot. Putting aside my remaining internalized fat-hate as much as I can…I’m nervous because I know that significant, rapid weight gain is a symptom of thyroid problems, which run stongly in my family. I know weight gain can also indicate a number of other medical problems. I want to believe that if this (or a larger size than this) is my body’s natural, healthy set point, that I’ll be able to accept, own and love that about myself. But I also don’t want to let a real medical problem – especially one so highly correlated with depression – go undiagnosed because my feelings about my body are a tangled mess…

But it sucks because finding reliable medical information about ANYTHING related to weight gain/loss is such a daunting process. It seems impossible to do it on the Internet. If I need to know why I’m having muscle spasms in my calves or my poop is a funny color, it’s not too hard to find a number of relevant, informative websites to peruse – but if there are relevant, informative medical websites qua weight-fluctuation that aren’t bogged down with underlying “Teh Fats iz Bad For U!!” bias, I certainly haven’t been able to filter them out of the mass of weight-loss drug ads and diet-tip blogs.

So that’s out. The medical staff here is out because, I don’t know, I have to eat meals with them, and see them drunk shouting “Woo!” at parties, and I know an uncomfortable number of illicit details about their personal lives and…it’s just too weird. Also, if it IS a thyroid problem, that could possibly NPQ me out of future contracts, so I don’t want that information in my permanent record. Meanwhile, back in the States, I don’t have a medical professional who I trust (re: my fatness among other things). Or a medical professional, period. Not to mention medical insurance. I suppose I could ask my Mom… (That was a joke.)

Secretly though, I think this is my fear: I’m afraid to get checked out because I’m afraid I’ll find out I have NO thyroid issues or hormonal imbalances or anything else “wrong” with me (other than being ohsnos!Fat!)… That I will start practicing intuitive eating in earnest, cooking myself healthy, delicious meals and exercising often in ways that I enjoy…and that I will, regardless, keep gaining weight. That it will turn out what’s natural and healthy for my body is to gain continously as I age…and that I will never be able to accept or love that. That I will just get bigger and bigger and bigger and gain and gain and never stop, and never be able to love myself, and will pass some kind of limit past which nobody else will be able to love me either, and I will end up alone, reviled and hating myself, “300 lbs with a toilet seat embedded in my ass.”

Which I just realized references an offhand “joke” someone made earlier today…

Which is probably what possessed me to weigh myself.

And kicked off this whole spiral again.



Blah blah blah. Blog blog blog.
I am so sick of doing this shit to myself.


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