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Letting Myself Go—Apparently

Letting Myself Go—Apparently

Letting Myself Go—Apparently

….and then my (potentially former) chiro said to me (last night) “Well of course you’ve really let yourself go, dear. But you shouldn’t be too hard on yourself. You’ll get back to it, this year .”

Apparently I let myself go.

Not that I needed her to tell me. I figured it out myself. And you know, I haven’t been too hard on myself because being overweight isn’t something which calls for punishment or self-loathing. Usually it goes that way, but it shouldn’t. I guess she’s telling me I should be hard on myself (oh goody, a punishment-reward relationship with food and self-image, how novel) but not too hard. I didn’t ask for clarification.

And if there’s an expression I hate, it’s “letting [oneself] go” (change the pronoun however it suits you). I know I just used it. But I did so, ironically.

Remember my neck? If you don’t, have a boo. I see my chiro for my neck and other-related issues. To say that I’m in agony would be like saying that I am not pain-free.

Apparently she observed last night that I have let myself go and it’s evident to all and sundry. But this may surprise you: 

I do not pay her one iota for commentary on my mass, volume, or density

Just for a wee aside, curious about the difference among mass, volume, and density? Have a watch. Or not. Just click on it for a mo’ then come back here.

Despite the fact that I can do good cardio (ooo and Zumba), and with the exception of recent neck issues, pump some serious iron and have biceps which are the envy of many a gym rat, I have let myself go. And for some magical reason, my chiro thought it was more than ok, necessary perhaps, to inform me of such.

I know what you’re thinking: she’s one of my healthcare providers and as such, it’s her obligation (and right) to address my weight (I call it my density) issues. Possibly. But it was:

a) uncalled for, and

b) irrelevant to our relationship and treatment at the time, and

c) we’re talking 30 pounds.

Sorry, I know that’s faulty parallel structure, but baby, I’m on fire!

So while I bit back the “bite me” because I still need her, I’m here to say that unless someone else’s weight, mass, density, or volume is your issue, shut your buttertart hole.

I know what you’re wondering: aren’t we fat people supposed to be jolly? Perhaps. But I’m not mass-enhanced enough for the jolly-endorphins to kick in; nor am I gravitationally de-activated enough to be totally grumpy.

Oh, another thing I hate, calling people “fat” as though they belonged to some sub-species. Anyhoodle… 

I’ve made a list of retorts I wish I had said, but I had too much respect for her august presence (old bat) and frankly, I am sure she meant well, and I need her. 

As a matter of fact I did let myself go, I’m testing my new Depends. Thoughts?

So while I’m here on my soapbox, listening to it creak under my weight, I want to add that skinny-shaming irks me too. Perhaps because I’ve been on both sides of the mountain. And I ain’t no Heidi. Getting back to the other side may take a while. Maybe she can help make my journey easier by getting off my back.

This blog was brought to you today by the letters F and U.



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