Spoiler alert: I’m FAT. And I’m phatt. I’ve been weight challenged since I was twelve years old. I’ve been phatt since I decided bodies are bodies and bodies are beautiful. My intelligence is beautiful. Both are lovely gifts. I have fat days and I have phatt days. The thing is I have always enjoyed a fair amount of good health within all my ill health. I am grateful to have fat/phatt days. These days I am grateful for every day.
As a little girl I was round and firm. We played so hard we burned every calorie that went in. Dad always had a garden with lots of fresh veggies and berries. Mom canned the produce as it ripened; we had homemade jams, jellies, pickled cucumbers, beets, and green beans among others in the larder, and potatoes, onions, and other root vegetables stashed in boxes in the cold garage. Every scrap of vegetable waste, egg shells, and coffee grounds went back out into the garden in little trenches and covered with dirt. Gardens take lots of physical work to keep them in good shape and actively producing. Input and output.
The folks bought a pastured beef every year and put it in the freezer, much cheaper that way, and Mom knew how to cook the assortment of cuts and hamburger. No question back then the beef was grass/pasture raised. Mom bought chickens by the dozen and butchered them in the back yard while us kids were at school so we didn’t see what she did to save money. The chickens also were grass/pasture raised. Milk in glass bottles from grass fed cows and eggs from chickens who ate what chickens are supposed to eat (bugs and worms – they are NOT vegetarians) were delivered every morning from the farm a few miles away to our front doorstep.
We had one aunt by marriage who was a large woman. We loved her dearly but we never wanted to look like her. She had only sons and delighted in making exotic Barbie doll clothes for my sister and me. As sissy and I dressed our Barbies with the fabulous clothes auntie made, it was Barbie we wanted to look like, not auntie. I loved auntie then and still do because she is so comfortable and easy to talk with. And though there is no genetic connection between the two of us I ended up fat. Didn’t try to be, didn’t want to be. Tried not to be. TRIED NOT TO BE. TO BE.
When I was twelve the hormones kicked in with a real ka-boom and suddenly I had woman curves. I had hips, and thighs, and buns, and these boobs I had absolutely no idea what to do with. And they would not quit. Mom took me to be fitted for my first brassiere, and the clerk took one look at me over the top of her glasses and said “Hwell, you didn’t come in a moment too soon, now, did you?” and put me straight into a 36C.
About the same time our food sources began to change, more items were available at the grocery store within walking distance of our house. In came the white bread, margarine, commercial pasteurized homogenized milk, and factory raised eggs and meat. I bloomed all over and by the age of 16 I was five five and 130 pounds. People began to tell me I was fat. I was not fat.
Though I have exercised in various forms all my life I have physical challenges that make me a better armchair athlete and spectator than a performer. I’ll talk about the challenges in another post. I have randomly done yoga, dancing, jogging, biking, walking, and swimming. I believe exercise is important for proper maintenance of the body. I’ll talk more about that later also.
Though I gardened in my adult life, more and more of my food sources were processed, refined foods, easily and quickly obtained at the store in a run through at night after work, tired from standing all day in the hair salon making people pretty. I weighed in (not that I give much value to the number of pounds on a scale) about 180. Because of my random attempts at exercise I still was not fat.
My pregnancy changed that: I became more mindful of what I ate and began studying nutrition. I began to uncover the lies being told to the American public. I only gained 35 pounds with my pregnancy which is within a prescribed healthy range for an average pregnancy. But even with breastfeeding and randomly regular exercise I gained weight eating the prescribed diet. My pregnancy and subsequent delivery provided me with fresh challenges: I had to change to a more sedentary career,
A few years later I had six silver-mercury amalgams placed in my teeth, and gained thirty more pounds and began to experience a decline in my health. When I hit 250 pound wise I really did not like that number. Wanting to feel better led to my search for better health. I didn’t like the ill health or being tired all the time; I could still move my body well and most of my health decline did not seem to be related to the fat, but then I tried to get rid of the fat BEACUSE DOCTORS TOLD ME EVERY FATIGUE AND ACHE AND PAIN WAS BECAUSE I WAS FAT. They did not tell me why or how I got fat. And what they told me to do to get rid of it is wrong. It doesn’t work. I had to do my own research. Getting rid of the fat: the next story.