18 - My Fat Friend

Recently I lost a friend. Not in the traditional sense, but a shift in her life has occurred that has precipitated a slight shift in our relationship. As a result she no longer fills a specific role in my life: that of the “fat friend.”

The woman in question happens to be my sister, my closest sibling and probably my closest friend. Now to clarify, because I managed to offend the hell out of her with my shorthand, I don’t mean that she’s the fat friend who makes you feel so awesome about how you look because she looks worse. What I mean by “fat friend” is the person who affirms your decision not to work on your weight by their decision not to work on theirs. I didn’t care if our reasons for not working at it were the same; misery loves company and I enjoyed her company down here in the overweight trenches a great deal.

Allow me a little history if you will. My sister moved to Toronto in 2000, just after a family reunion. And at that family reunion a photo was taken. In it, the whole family is standing except the two of us; we’re seated and (I blame the camera angle now) neither of us looked our best. I remember feeling absolutely mortified at that picture when I saw it later. In fact, I’m fairly certain that photo precipitated my first foray into Weight Watchers. Soon after my sister’s move, she started the Jenny Craig program, and since then we’ve kind of mirrored each other in our weight gain and loss.

Over the past nine years, we’ve both yo-yo’d around and taken stabs at getting the weight issue under control. We did Myrtle Beach together last year in our belle grande bathing suits (though admittedly she was wearing one of my old “skinny” ones—I’ll always be the “big” little sister). Later that year we went home to attend an anniversary party for our parents and while her dress was way better than mine, we were both carrying more weight than we wanted to be at the time.

But now, all of this is about to change because my sister has signed up for Weight Watchers. While I have no great faith in the efficacy of the program, I know there are exceptions to the rule and it’s entirely conceivable that my sister will be one of them. Even in the worst case scenario that she isn’t the exception, I’m sure she’ll lose a significant amount of weight to begin with. She’s down about 6lbs after three weeks which is right on spec for the program. Assuming she continues to lose at this rate with no major setbacks, in six weeks she’ll be down 18lbs. That’s the kind of difference you can see—especially at another family event.

You got it. In a scant six weeks, we’ll both fly home for our mom’s 70^th birthday. All of my tall, thin brothers will be there. And this time I’ll be the only fat sibling.

Being with my family is emotionally exhausting at the best of times, but when I’m already stressed out, it’s hell on earth. Around my family I revert back to some out-of-control eighth grader begging to be understood, respected and listened to and it usually culminates with me having just the temper tantrum to prove that I’m still an out-of-control eighth grader who doesn’t deserve to be understood, respected or listened to. So yeah, that, on top of being the only fatty—not looking forward.

With all this in mind, I’ve begun to wonder if I have the wherewithal to be fat alone, not only with my family but everywhere else as well. Will I be able to calmly stand up to the well-intentioned (I like to think) prodding of certain family members to shed the pounds? Will I manage to enjoy what little I can of my family without worrying about how I look the entire time? Can I manage to not make the entire trip about my weight?

And out here in the real world, can I fight the temptation to change for shitty reasons? I’ve taken a long hiatus from working on my weight and it hasn’t just been the result of sheer laziness. In fact, it’s been a concrete decision based on, what I believe, to be a valid reason. Tempting though it is to do something drastic, I refuse to start another weight loss regimen that I don’t think is healthy or that I don’t see myself maintaining for life; and that nixes a lot of conventional programs. I won’t eat packaged Jenny Craig or NutriSystem food forever; I won’t spend the rest of my life running off to Dr. Bernstein to get shots in my ass; I won’t cut out carbs for the rest of my life; I won’t even count points and go to meetings a la Weight Watchers for the rest of my life. And so far at least, Paul McKenna can’t make me thin. So knowing my failure rate with at least one of these methods and my aversion to the rest of them, there’s little point in starting them. I’m sure I could lose weight in any one of these programs but the likelihood that I would keep it off is so low that I’m not willing to participate. I’ve done enough of the lose/gain cycle and I refuse to subject my body to it. Until I know I’m ready to deal with all my emotional triggers around food, I’m just not going to make some half-assed attempt. But in the mean time, I remain overweight and not terribly happy about it. And now there’s no one along for the ride. My human pillar of affirmation has left the building.

I guess I should be thankful that I’m so tired of the weight gain/loss treadmill because I haven’t been strongly tempted at all to do anything. I’ve had crazy thoughts of just starving myself until July 18, being trim for a weekend and then piling it all back on. But those are thoughts that remain nothing more than fucked up fantasies. So fat I am now, and fat I shall be on July 18.

There have been three positives in this though. The first is that I have quickly realized that my relationship with my sister will survive her losing weight without me; frankly I wasn’t sure I’d be able to be normal about it for a while there. The second is that I think she’s happier with herself and I basically just want my sister to be happy. The last is that I’ve been forced into the realization that I was never okay with not working at my weight in the first place. But what follows is not what you might anticipate.

Even with a friend along for the ride, I have been bound up in mess of self-loathing around my body that’s been pretty substantial and I hadn’t really been aware of how deep it went. I’ve never been in a place of acceptance about my weight but instead this terrible limbo; just waiting for the day when the rest of my life calms down enough to work on it and never really settling into this body in the mean time. Like moving into a house and never unpacking anything because you don’t plan to stay. In lieu of self-acceptance, I struck a deal with myself: it’s okay to not work at the weight as long as you hate yourself sufficiently for being overweight. And I’ve done a fabulous job at the hatred. Messed up, I realize.

So I’ve begun to wonder, can I just sit still and try to be happy at my present size? Can I manage to just work at accepting myself in the here and now, without a plan for the there and then? Can I refrain from continuing to disavowing all connection to this body? Can I stop thinking of my body and thus myself as something in need of major renovation?

I have a hope that being alone in this will make it easier to work on accepting myself on some basic level. It’s funny, but walking alone might lead to greater happiness.

17 - Overblown

Wednesday, May 20^th was not a slow news day. That day, the missing person case of Victoria Stafford became a homicide investigation. But alas, newspaper editors had to find their stories the day prior, so on that day the front page of The Toronto Star led with the headline “The Incredible Shrinking Man.” [i] the story had actually been about an incredibly shrinking man, it might have warranted the great big font. But the story was only about Toronto mayor David Miller having dropped 50lbs and—shockingly—still being recognizable to 16 out of 20 people

Let me first just address this “still recognizable” thing. No one at a height of 6’3” becomes unrecognizable for dropping 50lbs. I’m 5’5” and I wouldn’t become unrecognizable if I dropped 50lbs. I’m pretty sure people that knew me 50lbs ago are still finding it pretty easy to pick me out in a crowd. I’m going to venture a guess that anyone who found it that difficult to identify the man after his weight loss probably didn’t vote in our last municipal election—for shame!

I’d also love to know who in the hell ran this survey. Who bothered to ask this question? Were there people running in the streets when Miller’s first “after” shot hit the internet asking “who is that and what has he done with my mayor?!” The whole idea of surveying people sounds a bit desperate. I’m all for the printed word, but if this is what journalists are coming up with, the death knell for newspapers just got a little louder.

The comments on the article were an interesting mix. Most of the posters simply voiced frustration with Miller as a mayor. Some of his detractors found ways to use the weight loss as a mildly funny means to get their point across about the job he’s doing (i.e. “maybe he’ll shrink into nothing and The City of Toronto will have shed 230 pounds of distruction [sic];” “must be all that hot air he expels”). And then there were the (sadly) expected digs at fat people in general because the issue of weight has been brought up at all. One poster suggested that there must be a lot of fat people posting since people were actually angry about the article. Another poster urged the rest of us “tubbies” to follow Miller’s lead.

When I finished raging over the “fat attacks,” there were two comments that stuck out for me. One echoed the first question that popped into my head when I saw the article—“slow news day?” The other rounded out what I was thinking by calling this “Paris Hilton journalism.” Well said.

I think it’s abhorrent that the weight of every celebrity is continuously monitored by the media. Unless one’s profession is an athletic one, no one’s weight should be worthy of mention. But I still expect, and frankly accept, that I’m going to see this sort of thing on the covers of People, US and any other magazine meant for mass consumption by, primarily, women. I wouldn’t even really be surprised if I saw something like this on the cover of a more tabloid-like daily like The Toronto Sun. But I always thought of The Toronto Star as a somewhat respectable paper. Perhaps not the most committed to hard journalism but still a reasonable read. And then they pull a front page like this.

I’m pretty sure there were still people dying in Darfur on May 19 before the paper went to print. There was probably something pertinent to say about the conflicts in Afghanistan or Iraq on May 19. Now some people feel that the future of newspaper is in keeping it local. Fine, let’s keep it local. Weren’t there still some pretty important talks going on between GM and the CAW on the evening of on May 19? Well, I have to admit, that story did make the news, but obviously it wasn’t front page worthy. But David Miller’s shrinking waist line and continued familiarity to the masses (sort of) apparently was.

In 2008, The Toronto Star was still the most read paper in the CMA (census metropolitan area) of Toronto with a total weekly readership of 49%[ii]. While I’m not in agreement with all of the comment posters, it does represent a segment of people actually questioning the relevance of the news they’re reading. I wonder though, how big is that segment? If even half of that 49% don’t question the fact that someone’s weight loss is front page news in a city like Toronto, that’s troubling to me. It’s troubling to me that there is conceivably this great number of people who think that David Miller’s morning runs, bagged lunches, Quarter Pounder with cheese boycott and subsequent weight loss is actually news.

Maybe I’m being censorial about this. Maybe all news is created equal, but I can’t say I believe that. I just don’t agree with semi-respectable newspapers implying that someone’s last weigh-in should be given the same space as wars, elections and economic melt-downs. I’m not okay with the implication that we should be monitoring David Miller’s weight loss as an electorate, rather than his policies. And I’m not okay with the increasing number of editors who feed the misconception that weight loss is something to congratulate people about, like they’ve just done something to secure world peace. Ultimately, I’m not okay with the idea that we should be worried about anyone’s weight except our own.

The “after” shot of David Miller was taken at a cities environment summit in Korea and while news of what was actually discussed at the summit did make into The Toronto Star the next day, I fail to understand why they felt the need to lead the day prior with a “wow, the mayor looks great” article. And if they just had to do the “wow, the mayor looks great” article could they not have buried it on page E4?

I’d love to hear what you think. Is weight loss news? Should it be news? Am I too sensitive to this because of my weight? While I love your e-mails, you can comment anonymously on the blog and then everyone can have the benefit of your thoughts which, I think, you’d all enjoy. So, over to you.

---

[i]The online version of the story was entitled “The Skinny on Mayor Miller’s weight loss.”

[ii]2008 NADbank Readership Study – check it out at http://www.cna-acj.ca/en/system/files/Press%20Release%200708%20NADbank%20Study.pdf

16 - BMI Begone!

For some time now, I’ve wanted to talk about the Body Mass Index (BMI), and last week a little nugget fell into my lap. I stumbled across an article in MacLean’s about a new measure being proposed by some obesity experts. Enter the Edmonton Obesity Staging System. What this measure does (that the BMI cannot) is take into account that not every obese person is at equal risk for weight-related diseases, even at the same BMI. In fact, it even allows for the novel idea that an obese person might be relatively healthy.

In the article, the following example is used to demonstrate how the same BMI means different things for different people: “Two people…One is a young woman, aged 24, who seems relatively healthy and plays soccer on weekends. The other is a large 32-year old man who suffers from hypertension and sleep apnea. The woman is five foot five, about 190lbs; the man is six feet tall, 265lb…both are ‘obese’ with a Body Mass Index of 30 or more.”

As the article goes on to explain, it doesn’t take much to ascertain that the only thing that these two people share is a BMI. Any potential medical intervention is going to look very different in each case and using the same approach for two people with such different lifestyles and symptoms would be silly. However, many practitioners are without a sensible guide and have only the BMI and its attendant diagnoses at their disposal when dealing with obese patients.

It seems like a measure as unrelated to specific information as the BMI leaves much to be desired. Yet, in a Frontline diet documentary mentioned in my third post, a nutritionist, going on host Stephen Talbot’s BMI alone, lists off (with a straight face) an array of horrible health risk factors: heart disease, stroke, osteo-arthritis, high cholesterol, adult onset diabetes and some types of cancer. The good doctor planned to check Talbot’s cholesterol and to do a blood glucose test to ensure that he wasn’t “already diabetic,” but all of her declarations were based on just his BMI. At 5’11’ and 210lbs, Talbot had a BMI of 29, which put him in the overweight category, edging dangerously close to obesity. Ironically, he hadn’t considered himself overweight at all prior to that day.

I’d like to believe that most nutritionists would run a few more tests before declaring that you were about to contract any number of terrifying diseases. It’s telling, though, that this nutritionist talked about using the BMI “a lot more” these days and seemed content to be seen on television making a lot of conclusions based on that information alone. I’m left wondering, if Talbot had been a naturally thinner man, with deceptively high metabolism and a normal range BMI, would the good doctor have bothered to ensure that he wasn’t “already diabetic?”

I have a great family doctor who doesn’t treat me like my size is the only thing that defines me. Knowing my 30+ BMI full well, she refers to me as “not that overweight.” Not every overweight person is blessed with a doctor like mine though; a system like this is a great way to begin and facilitate conversation between patients and doctors, so that interventions are tailored to the individual in question. Clearly the one-size-fits-all-BMI approach hasn’t worked thus far—this new kind of thinking is long overdue. My favorite quote in the article, from Dr. Arya of the Canadian Obesity Network, highlights something that I think we all know, but that most people don’t like to admit: “Size is health in many people’s minds, but it shouldn’t be.”

I’ll second that emotion.

To read the full MacLean’s article, click here. For more information on the Edmonton Obesity Staging System, check out Dr. Sharma’s blog.

15 - Freedom of Space

I ride public transit everywhere. I didn’t even learn how to drive until the age of 30, making me one of those terrible overly cautious (and thus somewhat dangerous) drivers. But I’ve always been vaguely offended by the cost of owning a car anyway. Also, without public transit I’d probably regress into illiteracy; most everything I’ve read in the past 15 years has been read while traveling on a bus or subway. I actually find it hard to read at home at all.

Having sung the praises of the service, however, I’m not always a fan of transit. Waiting for buses in the winter sucks and it’s not uncommon for transit vehicles to smell bad in the summer time. In addition, I can assure you that no one with a major psychological issue in this city owns a car. And there’s a reason that the 300 Blue Night is called the Vomit Comet. But my last beef is the issue of space.

Seats on public transit vehicles are really not made for people my size. I don’t tend to ride in rush hour so this is (thankfully) not an everyday issue for me. I’m often able to get what I consider prime seating on my bus to work—one of the four single seats on the left hand wall. And if the subway isn’t too busy, most (sane) people will observe appropriate spacing—meaning, in a row of three seats the middle one will be left open and you only sit in the open spot of a two-seater if there are no other reasonable options. This allows people like me to have a portion of their ass taking up part of the next seat. Regular sized folks put bags, dogs, children and other sundries there from what I’ve observed.

But when it’s busy, it’s a whole different story. If I’m stuck on the outside of a two-seater, about a quarter of my body will likely be hanging out into the aisle. If I’m on the inside seat, I’m folded up like a contortionist trying to avoid inappropriately touching my neighbor. As for a three-seater, if there are already two occupants, only enormously extenuating circumstances will make me sit (i.e. spontaneous conception or my leg suddenly breaking all on its own). Which brings me to a story.

The other day I was on a rush-ish hour bus that was required to take on the disgorged passengers of an out-of-service vehicle. This newly, exceptionally crowded bus was going to be nuisance enough, but then this dude gets on—and he’s huge. Not just overweight, but just an impossibly large man. I look at him in dread because I know the seat next to me is the best one left. I hold my breath a bit, anticipating being squished into the wall, his thigh melding with my own, as the two of us compete for too little space.

And then it happens. He manages to not only sit next to me, but to pass the entire remainder of the ride, without ever touching me. At all. If it wouldn’t have remanded me to the ranks of the insane, I would have thanked him—thanked him for understanding that we all want space, no matter how big we are and how the small the space is. I wanted to thank him for respecting my space even in rush hour. I wanted to thank him for understanding the hierarchy of seat comfort based on first arrival.

This strange happening got me thinking about personal space in the public realm and one’s right to it. In North American culture there is a bubble of personal space that we all strive to maintain. Only in very specific contexts do we give that space up, like crowded vehicles or schools or Black Friday sales. It’s why, when a dude sits in the seat next to you on an empty bus, you move the hell away toute suite. But the bigger you are, the bigger your bubble and I wondered to myself, did I forfeit the right to my personal space bubble when I got a little too big for one seat? And if that’s the case, is that fair or right?

Ironically, as a fat gal, I tend to walk around trying consciously not to take up too much space for the simple reason that I don’t want to be reminded of how much actual space I take up. There are days when I don’t even want to be seen, let alone felt to be encroaching on someone else’s space based on my size. It makes me wonder, did the man on that rush hour bus keep from touching me out of consideration, or was he just trying not to take up too much space that day? Maybe he just didn’t want to be seen or felt either.

I used to love air travel as a kid. As an adult who’s watched too many episodes of Seconds from Disaster and Mayday, I know too much to enjoy it much anymore. Also, my hips are becoming too wide for the standard airplane seat. Before every flight that I take, I send up a small prayer that the seat next to me will be either empty or occupied by someone insanely thin so that my time of terror in the skies will, at least, be comfortable.

So of course, after all this thinking about how much I attempt not to take up any space, I couldn’t help but think about people who want to take up more space than anyone should need. Now don’t get me wrong, I’ve seen some large folks who have zero qualms about taking up all kinds of space, but, in my experience, I see this propensity for being downright weird about the issue displayed most often by thin people. Maybe it’s just because, despite the “epidemic of obesity,” there are more average size people than any other kind. Whatever the reason, this seems to be the state of things. Some examples that come to mind: people who cross their legs (in any variety of ways) on public transit, as if the aisle was some sort of lounge area rather than a through way; the dudes (it’s always dudes) who sit with their legs two feet apart; the huge purse girls and the backpack boys; and the dreaded “SUV-baby-carriage” people*. These people appear to function with the idea that they are not only entitled to the space that they need, but to as much space as they might possibly want. I go about with the feeling like I should be grateful that I’m allowed to take up as much space as I do, and maybe, in light of these people, I’m being overly grateful. On the other hand, if everyone were as grateful as I am, public transit would be a lot more pleasant for all of us.

*Credit to the editor for that one.

14 - Latifah and Jenny: An Awkward Union

Whether it's an eating regimen, a magic pill, or an exercise machine, companies selling weight loss products tend to feature the users with the least typical results. In fact, that's one of the most smirk-worthy features of every weight loss ad—the tiny white print on the bottom of the TV screen: "Results not typical." From the 50 year old grandmother strutting around bikini-clad in old Bowflex commercials to Kirsty Alley's amazing (though disputed) shedding of 70 lbs, none of these people are an accurate representation of what will likely happen if you try this product. People desperate to lose weight fail to think through the fact that for any 50 year old woman to look that good, she's either got amazing genes or an amazing plastic surgeon...in addition to her Bowflex. I would hope that new users of the Jenny Craig program would pay attention to the fact that Valerie Bertinelli's JC blog is littered with asterisks indicating that her results aren't typical. In fact, all weight loss numbers shown on the JC site are listed as "not typical" because what's typical is that you'll lose and gain the same five to ten pounds for four months and then you'll quit the program no slimmer and a bit poorer. What it amounts to is false advertising, but what else is new?

However, if we want to talk about typical and atypical in the realm of people who actually lose weight and keep it off, most of us don't look like runway models when we're done with a weight loss program. Most people lose their weight and look like the typical size 12-14 woman that is the majority in North America; not the size 0-4 woman who entirely populates TV land. The former is about reality and the latter is about wish fulfillment. People don't pay good money for a product to produce reality in their lives; they pay for the fantasy. And that's why it's effective to show all the women who got down to size 4 (from a 12) in the NutriSystem commercials, or the incredible shrinking waistline of Valerie Bertinelli in the Jenny Craig spots.

It's this weight loss advertising reality that makes Jenny Craig's campaign featuring Queen Latifah really interesting. Admittedly, when I first saw the Queen in the Jenny ads I was dismayed. I was dismayed by the "urban" setting of her first ad, just to ensure that we know she's still "street" or whatever they were trying to convey. It bugged the hell out of me that the fan base that Queen Latifah first appealed to, the fan base that made her famous, probably can't afford to use the program. However, my objections to her role in the campaign aside, I have to be impressed with the tack they've taken: someone who's results actually appear attainable or even typical being featured on TV. Someone who is considered a success story who still happens to look like the rest of us. On her JC blog, Queen Latifah notes that she's lost 20lbs and her cholesterol has gone down 20 points. While the "cover our asses" asterisks also appear next to her results, deeming them atypical, from where I'm standing losing 20lbs is a lot more attainable than 40 or 70lbs—in fact I'd consider it almost typical.

One of Queen Latifah's JC ads has her grooving away on a treadmill talking about how much she loves feeling healthy. In fact, in all of her ads she is shown mostly speaking to "feeling good" or being a "size healthy." The amount of weight she's lost is referred to but unlike the ads featuring Bertinelli (the other Jenny Craig celeb spokesperson on the go at the moment) there are no before/after shots. In her blog she says that she thinks her body was fine the way it was and is fine now, but she's using the program to improve her health. What becomes clear very quickly is that the ad campaign featuring Latifah is not about wish fulfillment.

I would venture to say that this is the reason that Queen Latifah's blog comes up in a new window when you click on her name on jennycraig.com. I believe this is about reeling in a new, but smaller, group of clientele. The client who isn't interested in a dramatic weight loss (or isn't willing to admit that's their interest anyway). The client who has probably dieted so many times before that they are simply looking for a healthier lifestyle. The client who isn't willing to be openly disparaging about her body as it is. Typical Jenny Craig is about atypical results in order to sell the product. The Queen is about appealing to the consumer who thinks they're smarter than that. We're all getting duped but some get to walk away thinking they're above our weight obsessed society. At the end of the day though, it's Valerie Bertinelli's blog that's emblazoned all over jennycraig.com—not Queen Latifah's. Clearly featuring a woman who's lost weight, but still sort of looks like everyone else, remains a risky business.

13 - Bad Shirt

So in a mere 22 hours, barring any major delays, I will be sitting on a plane headed for Charlotte, North Carolina, where I'll then board a connecting flight to Myrtle Beach, South Carolina. We are excited--very, very excited. As a result this post is being done so fast and dirty that it won't even be seen by the editor. I can only offer a thousand apologies in advance for any misplaced commas and typos.

So Paul McKenna's book finally showed up on Tuesday last week. I spent three days eating only when I was hungry, eating what I wanted, eating consciously and stopping when satisfied. By Thursday I was too irritable to even go and see my therapist. My stomach felt off, I was headache-y, my blood sugar was on some sort of magic carpet ride, and I was feeling plain old pissed off from not being able to ingest something delicious to cope with every emotion coming my way. I haven't quite tackled the visualization techniques that he recommends yet but I did begin listening to his vaguely hypnotic CD at bedtime. Hopefully he's working some kind of mojo on me while I sleep. Despite his strictly forbidding you to weigh yourself before you've been doing the program for at least two weeks, I figured I wanted a little numerical encouragement before I headed south. Having to buy an even bigger tankini this year (over last year's) to accommodate my enlarged girth was making me feel a little blue (even if this tankini is smokin' hot). The funny part is that I worked to be disappointed. I pulled out the scale from its place of shame beneath my wardrobe only to find that the battery was dead so I couldn't get a reading. I made a special trip to the drug store to get a battery and laboured over getting it installed properly. It was with great confidence that I stepped up onto the scale. After ten days of having to actually cope with anxiety, boredom, and mild sadness, I haven't lost a pound. I was 230 the last time I weighed myself and I'm at exactly the same spot. Now I suppose something could be said for the fact that I haven't gained and I should be glad that I'm not hoovering down enough food for three other people in a day and thus avoiding that awful "my stomach hurts 'cause I'm so full" feeling. But c'mon! Do my efforts count for nothing?! So I hope that in time Paul McKenna will make me thin but clearly it won't be happening at the speed I would have preferred. Whatever happens, you'll be the first to know about it.

And as if the number on the scale wasn't depressing enough I have the vague impression that the teen-aged boy who gave up his seat to me on the bus last night might have done so thinking I was pregnant. I was wearing one of those empire waist line shirts that all fat women are supposed to wear; the ones that are supposed to hide our bellies. The problem, of course, is that not all fat women are shaped the same way, though plus size clothing makers would have you think so. I am one of those fat women whose weight sits at the top of her belly. So an empire waist line in most clothing, unless cut very specifically, makes me look pregnant. I thought I’d lucked out with this shirt though. It appears that I may have been wrong. Seriously, some days it’s best to not get out of bed at all.

12 - Till Heft Do Us Part

As I’ve made my latest foray back into the dating game, it’s gotten me thinking about my weight in the context of a relationship. On one level I really want to meet someone now, at my heaviest, so that should I lose weight it’s just sort of an added bonus; and if should I gain weight again it’s not a massive shock for Mr. Right. While I’m presently in no danger of losing any weight (my damn book still hasn’t shown up yet), it does concern me that if I entered a relationship 30lbs lighter, that person, the slimmer me, would be the person my significant other signed up for, not the one I am now. This begs the question, if the person that I am now reappeared would Mr. Right be entitled to get outta Dodge for that reason alone? In other words, when a person gains weight in a relationship is the other party entitled to leave for that very reason? Have they been subjected to a bait and switch and are they well within their rights to go and find someone who will maintain a little better?

I sat down with my good friend Candy[i] to ask these very questions. Candy has been married since before I even realized boys were good for something. While Candy’s body has changed and morphed since having children she is pretty much the same weight that she was when she got married (if not a little lighter). Her husband however, has put on a significant amount of weight since “I do” and I wanted to pick her brain about what that’s like for their relationship.

Before we dive in to the interview, I want to thank Candy for her honesty and forthrightness. The blog is blessed.

Heavy: At what point did your husband’s weight gain become an issue for you?

Candy: When we first started dating he was 196lbs and he still had a little bit of a belly—he basically needed to do some crunches to lose it. I don’t know exactly what the number was but I know I reached a day when it just started to irritate me. I realized I had put on weight and he’d never complained about it—so I was probably not saying anything for a while but feeling that way for some time.

H: Do you remember how long ago that was?

C: Maybe about six years ago.

H: You said it started to "irritate" you—can you elaborate on that word?

C: I think when I became annoyed was in moments when he’d already pissed me off in some way. So you know how we are, we always bring up the past; and all the other baggage would come with it. His family would say stuff like "when are you going to get on the treadmill" or "you could stand to lose a few pounds," and I would feel the need to defend him, in the back of my mind knowing it was true. I was torn because I had to defend him but I was feeling the same thing that his family was.

H: How long have you been married now, eight years?

C: Eleven years (laughs).

H: Someday I’ll remember! You’ve been married 11 years – so this has been an issue for almost half the marriage.

C: Yeah. The other thing that annoyed me was buying him clothes. You go into Moore’s to get someone to help you and they ask if you’re buying for your father. You’re 25 or 26 and it’s like you’re buying for your husband.

H: Did you feel stigmatized?

C: I felt the stigma because I’m there buying a 2x or 3x shirt or 44 or 46 waist pant. Also around that time I had just had our first child and I felt like he needs to be active for the one-year old child who’s running around.

H: Did it affect your sex life?

C: Absolutely.

H: Do you want to get into the nitty gritty?

C: Oh I can.

H: Okay, go for it!

C: You always get stuck in the same positions. Especially after you have a baby, sex is really uncomfortable if the person is on top is a lot heavier than you. Especially if the woman has had stitches and they’re still sore. Even with me on top I still have to get my ample thighs around his ample belly.

H: How about from behind?

C: There’s still a belly in the way even if you have the biggest willy in the world.

H: I know there was a period of time when your husband had just left a job and so that was an issue for him. Do you think that affected the issues around the weight gain?

C: Having job troubles contributes to your activity level and if he’s not feeling good about where he’s at, the whole weight thing is an easy excuse to start an argument.

H: Did you bring up the weight when you were pissed off about something else?

C: Oh yeah. You certainly don’t fight fairly. We all do it so we might as well just fess up to it. And I’m always the one who starts talking and then that’s what starts the fight. I’m the woman and emotionally I need to get it out. So it comes off like I’m doing a lot of nagging, which maybe essentially I am.

H: Do you feel that a person’s physical appearance and the maintenance of that is part of the promise one makes at the altar?

C: Yes. It’s the unspoken promise. But as we age, guys get more nose hair, they go bald. Do you really expect that at 25 years old unless they’re already going that way? No. [Looks are] important when you’re young but as you get older you hit a certain age and you mature and you go through life enjoying the experiences that you’ve had with that person. It’s not so much about the nose hairs and the bald head but the person you’re with. You grow to love those things. If you ask a younger person they’d say yes, that’s important, but an older person would say no. It’s certainly been an issue in our house.

H: Do you feel like as you’ve gotten older it’s been less difficult?

C: No, more difficult for me personally.

H: That totally flies in the face of what you just said!

C: I know!

H: Why do you think that is?

C: Because part of me feels entitled. I’m 34 years old and I have this 40 year old husband who should still be taking care of himself. [Who should] be more conscious of how he dresses. There are days when he doesn’t care that he’s not cleaned his ears or shaved his face in three days. I don’t get that, I’m just the total opposite of that. And I don’t just do that for him—I do that also for myself. Maybe it’s a vanity thing. I don’t know. When you go to the gynecologist, you do some work “down there.” You’re not really doing it for them but to make sure the opinion that’s formed is a good one. Maybe it’s part of vanity.

H: Is a person entitled to leave the marriage entirely if someone’s appearance changes dramatically–whether they just entirely check out emotionally or actually get divorced?

C: If someone were to say that a man left a woman because she got fat after having a couple of kids we’d think that guy was the biggest asshole in the world. But I’m not naïve enough to think that there isn’t a whole lot of that happening in marriages. That one person is feeling that the other has given up and they’re feeling frustrated and end up wanting to have an affair or having some other vice.

H: Whether people are admitting to it or not it’s happening then?

C: It’s happening. I’m sure.

H: Is that guy within his rights to do that though?

C: I don’t think anyone should leave a marriage over just that. But I don’t think anyone leaves over just that—it’s not just that someone got fat and it was over. It’s not like everything else is fine and then someone gains some weight and so the other person leaves. Other things are always going on whether it’s a bad sex life or emotional problems, money troubles….whatever.
And people don’t just eat because they like to eat—there’s usually depression that comes along with it. Weight is an easy one to fight about because people have to eat.

H: Do you feel like your husband’s weight gain was selfish?

C: Yeah, sure it’s selfish.

H: Do you think he’s conscious of that?

C: Yes, in a way, because it’s a choice to either get up and exercise or feed your face or not. But I also think that when you struggle with weight, you feel bad about overeating or not exercising and you end up doing the same activity that made you feel bad all over again. So it’s a vicious cycle.

H: Would you say your concern is equally about your kids and you or no?

C: I would say equally. For me, my concern comes from a personal or sexual viewpoint. For the kids, it’s about being healthy for them, healthy enough to play and eventually see them have grandchildren. Kids pick up on their friends’ parents being different from their parents. Kids notice these things and sometimes they verbalize their fears/concerns and sometimes they don’t. And that’s where it becomes a sticky situation.

H: Is there anything else you’d like to add?

C: I definitely think that there’s a difference between a man harping on a wife about weight and a woman harping on a man for the same reason. Usually women gain weight because of children so they sort of have an excuse. But then again why do men get fat? Is it because he’s providing for the family and job stress, that sort of thing? The reasons people get fat might really be the same; it’s just that women also have children. In a way people don’t necessarily badger women quite as much because we usually do hold on to some of that weight after we’ve had kids. It doesn’t necessarily make us an overweight person but things are gonna look or feel different afterwards. With guys there’s a different standard because there are no children. Guys get less lenience. Why does a guy just put on 40lbs? There’s no physical reason for it. I also realize that as we age we are more prone to put on weight because we are less active, so I’m not talking about all of the 60-90 year olds out there. I’m not speaking of putting on weight because of medical issues either. Even though he is losing weight, I’m still not all that into him when he’s naked because I still see all the places he needs to lose weight.

H: At this point are you interested in him sexually or are you, for lack of a better phrase, taking it for the team?

C: Taking it for the team. If I met him today I wouldn’t be sexually interested in him, unless he had an amazing personality or did something really amazing for me. If I saw him today I wouldn’t give him a second look. I might think "oh he’s handsome, but he could stand to lose a few pounds." I’m just not into that type of body. It’s a harsh reality but it’s a fair question. You didn’t marry the person at this weight. If you didn’t know this person would you still be in to them? Honestly I’d say no. Most people are too wishy washy to answer that question.

H: In a perfect world where he loved his job and there were no money problems, do you think the weight thing would be as much of an issue?

C: If everything was perfect, he liked his job, and we didn’t have to worry about money, he’d probably carry himself differently. He would care if he put on twenty pounds because his confidence would probably suffer. If they’re confident, most people will start doing something on their own without someone nagging them. When you feel bad about other things and you’re depressed, you body aches and you physically feel unwell. At that point it is hard to get up to exercise because your mind is not into it, your body certainly isn’t feeling like exercising, and your heart might not be into it.

---

[i] Same old, same old. Candy is not her real name. Is anyone named Candy anymore?