I finally did my blood tests this Monday. I postponed it for weeks and weeks, because I didn’t want to deal with what was waiting for me. Since I don’t know whether I’m returning to the UK this month, I kicked myself in the butt, gained courage, and there I went. I took a ride from my brother early morning and then walked for at 30 minutes or so. I thought I would die half way through it without breakfast, but we always manage to survive everything in the end. Actually, I have been allowing myself to take advantage of too many bad excuses.
Anyway, here was my problem: my family and I have gone to the same small clinic for almost thirty years. Whenever we need to do a physical exam, that’s where we go. This means we are as familiar to the people who work in there as they are to us. It’s usually a good thing these days, isn’t it? I appreciate that, in fact. They saw me growing up… which means they were also part of my weight loss journey when I was 15 years old. They saw me shredding the fat and becoming a fit chick. They saw me coming in every six months or so, between my obesity sessions at the hospital.
The last time I visited that clinic, I was still that fit chick. Today I’m almost 5 stones heavier and I’m conscious of the calamity. I gained 1,5 stones since the end of last February, the time I last returned from the UK. I shouldn’t, but I allowed myself to get fat in the aftermath of everything that happened while I lived in the UK. I allowed myself to have the joy of junk food and I fell into old bad habits that made me an obese child and teenager before. I let food substitute the overwhelming thoughts of not knowing what to do and how to put my life back together. So I ate everything: huge doses of ice-cream, big doses of cookies at 4am… And the truth is that it felt damn good.
I don’t feel ashamed of what I did, but I still I don’t want people to see me now. I don’t want to face their judgment. I don’t want to hear their comments. This Monday, however, I had no escape – Hadn’t you lose a lot of weight? Don’t let yourself get fat. I started a diet last summer and I already lost 2 stones! I never heard someone asking What happened in your life? or How do you feel with the change? It’s rather easier for people to judge you and (unintentionally?) make you feel like crap. I know I’m fat, thank you. Too fat, actually. Do people think we put on weight for the love of being fat? There is nothing delightful about being overweight or obese. You system gets clogged and the more you eat, the more you want to indulge. In other words, the sicker you become, and I know that too well for a fact.
I didn’t need someone to state me the obvious and make me self-conscious. Thankfully I’m in a much better place in terms of self-love, but what if I was still that 15 year-old girl? I would still be torturing myself over how bad the confrontation had been and how I could disguise my body better next time. Maybe a loose t-shirt with an even looser shirt on top? I can’t be bothered with that today anymore and I don’t want to replay any self-judgement script. What if I failed at something I was an expert on? I’m supposedly an expert on Mindfulness too and that doesn’t mean I’m able to remain mindful 24/7. Life happened and I can’t be ashamed of that. I can’t be ashamed of the collateral effects of the hell I lived through. I’m human. Possibly a fat unicorn. I’m concerned about my health, yes I am, and I’m working on stopping the madness, but I won’t let judgment be the killer of my inner peace. Fuck, no. Life has to be already fabulous as it is right now and not when I get myself on a size 8 jeans again.