Fat Acceptance? Not a Fan ...

This is a subject that has me sooooooo conflicted.

I have been a fat child/adolescent/teen/adult/older adult.  I have hated myself, and I have lived outside my own life in many ways due to my weight and my feelings about my weight.  I have been mercilessly bullied by many people, including myself.  I bear the barely-scabbed scars of that abuse.

So, I *get* the whole *idea* of flying your fat flag proudly and owning your own life – eating what you want, wearing what you want, doing what you want.  I so want to applaud and embrace that, to celebrate the sense of freedom and ownership.  I want to laud their bravery and reward their beauty.

But, I can’t, because life does not work that way.

I am VERY close to 60 years old and, until 3 months ago, I weighed 300+ pounds.  My all-time high weight was somewhere north of 425 pounds.  I had no way to measure my weight; I finally had myself weighed on a meat scale to find out what my weight was.  I have dieted down to 202, and then ballooned back to 300.  I have hated, and cried, and eaten, and struggled, for 40+ years.

So, why can I not sign onto the “fat acceptance” bandwagon?

Because, when I look around me, I see VERY FEW people my weight who are older than me.  The simple truth is that you do not live a long life at 300+ pounds, or more, and I know that.  It is one of my primary motivators for keeping me on my current eating plan. 

This is the plain and simple truth:  morbidly obese people die from their obesity and from complications caused by or contributed to by their obesity.

When I see lovely young women celebrating their 200-, 250-, 300-lb. selves, I just see future health problems and short lives.  I see joint pain and loss of mobility.  I see loss of independence.  I see limited lives and limited futures.  I see pain.

I *know* these things.  I am battling back from myriad health problems and impaired mobility.  I fight through physical pain every day.

I cannot see the beauty, because I am too close to the pain.