Obesity is not awesome

This is a photo of me in November 2008, a month before my 29th birthday, trying on a maid of honor dress for my aunt’s second wedding. (I ended up getting a dark blue halter dress.) It’s obvious I don’t have a naturally small build, but I’m at a healthy weight in this photo, probably somewhere in the 130s or 140s. In other words, a lower plus size.

I’ll never forget the Vietnamese seamstress at David’s Bridal telling me, “You got boobs, you don’t need bra” when I asked about a corset or strapless bra!

This is a photo of me from May 2016, at age 36 and probably close to 200 pounds, looking like a fat kid. I know the camera adds ten pounds, but damn! Even my size 18 clothes were too tight, and I wore as high as a 2X. Every time someone tagged me in a photo on Facebook, I was horrified at how huge I looked. I refused to tag myself in other photos, not wanting to call public attention to my obvious obesity.

September 2016, no longer a mere plus size.

                                         

The photo on the left was taken in Crown Heights, Brooklyn in March 2017, and the one on the right was taken on Lag B’Omer 2017, when I was 37. By that point, I was close to 220 pounds, a size 22, and even more horrified when I saw myself in photos.

As my mother undiplomatically put it when she saw me in person again that June, “You look like you swallowed yourself.”

And keep in mind I’m only a bit under five feet two inches in bare feet. I’m amazed I gained so much weight and lived to tell about it!

This is what a 75-pound loss looks like. I put several decades back onto my life thanks to shedding all that weight. Had I continued on at 220 pounds, there’s no way I would’ve come anywhere close to my dream goal of age 100, or even my minimum goal of age 81 (the age I’ll be when Halley’s Comet returns).

I’ve been in the 144–49 weight range for the last few months, and am finally able to fit into some 10s again. Most of my clothes are size 12 and 14. I also still fit into some 16s and 18s comfortably.

Because the fit of a garment can vary so widely between designers, it’s best to think of yourself in a size range instead of wedded to just one size, even if your weight is stable.

As someone who’s struggled with weight many times during my life, and was within spitting distance of morbid obesity at my heaviest, it enrages me to see SJWs celebrating being dangerously overweight as an immutable characteristic like race, sex, or disability.

I felt strange pains in my chest when I was obese, and had such severe hip pain, I often had to drive places I once easily walked to. There were days I couldn’t even make it 30 feet before the pain became too great!

Because these SJWs are obsessed with idpol and hierarchies of oppression, they have to put themselves into snowflake categories. “Ooh, you’re only a small fat! You’re not nearly as oppressed or special as an infinifat!”

They even call people like me “ex-fats,” forever defining us by how we used to be overweight.

Prepare to be horrified if you check out the “infinifat” hashtag on Instagram. These women (and yes, they’re exclusively women) are dangerously obese, and they’re celebrating this as sexy, awesome, empowering, cute, fun, fashionable, something to be proud of, etc.

The guy below is positively small compared to the delusional “infinifats”!

Source

It is scientifically impossible to be healthy at every size. The HAES cult also hijacked the body positivity movement. Originally, it was intended for amputees, burn survivors, unusually tall or short people, albinos, people whose bodies were different from the norm in ways they couldn’t change. Not people who revel in being 100+ pounds overweight.

No one gets to be obese overnight or by accident. Some conditions, like PCOS, make it much harder to lose weight, but it can still be done. How dare they try to claim not fitting into a chair at a nail salon or being able to find size 30+ clothes is just like racism!

They see “microaggressions” in everything—before and after photos, being weighed at the doctor’s, the very word “obese,” innocuous comments like “That’s so flattering on you,” citing well-established health risks of obesity, everything that falls short of lovingly proclaiming, “Obesity rocks!”

Even if you’re metabolically healthy now, in the prime of youth, the reality of obesity will start to catch up to you once you hit your forties. There’s a reason we never see women my age or older in this cult.

We only have one body per lifetime. Treat yours well instead of junking it with excess fat and making obesity your entire identity.