Is the F-Word the New N-Word?
Who Can We Alienate Next?
Shelley has been a close friend since forever. One of those “through thick and thin” friends. “Thick and thin” include weight gain and loss. She is divorced and raising her six-year-old daughter Daisy alone. Shelley has had her share of problems in life. A poor childhood, divorce, and, most importantly, a weight problem. This is what ended our friendship.
I understand that genetics and hormones contribute to weight gain. I also understand that human beings can come up with all kinds of scientific “knowledge” to justify their actions. And personal reasons too. One of Shelley’s favorite justifications is her upbringing. Her family was poor, didn’t have a car, and couldn’t afford swimming lessons, a bike, or the usual “perks” of a normal childhood. My immediate reaction was that not having a car was a good excuse for exercise but I kept my mouth shut. I also taught myself how to swim but I remained silent for fear of backlash.
Her mother was a bad example: a yoyo dieter who perpetually gained and lost weight. Shelley nevertheless went on various fad diets. And, surprise, she would gain back every ounce she lost.
She has always been adamant about raising Daisy unlike she was raised. Well, that is the way most parents raise their kids. She doesn’t want to be seen dieting and says she teaches her child that the key to happiness is balance.
Here’s the thing though. Like most obese people, Shelley doesn’t want “advice”, whether direct or indirect. And with the excuse of setting a good example for her child, she does what she thinks is right: feeds her junk thinking that this is the freedom to do what she wants, unrestrained by society’s rules.
I have no problem with women accepting their weight and “embracing” (hate that word) their figures. If they are happy, that’s all that counts. But when they become whiners about their weight, I start to lose patience.
I have listened to Shelley complain for years. How this or that diet worked but how she gained weight when she went off it. When I tried to explain that maybe a lifestyle change was a solution instead of a drastic short-term diet, she shut me off.
When she showed me photos of Daisy’s Valentine’s Day treats, I tried to tactfully mention that those pretty pink sugar-laden cookies could be replaced by some pretty pink or red fruit. She shut me off.
Understandably, she explained how hard it is to get any physical activity these days because of all the restrictions. I tried to mention that the sidewalk was still free to use. She shut me off.
She complained of finally spiraling down that dark hole called “depression.” Self-loathing, listlessness, with Daisy being her only reason to get up in the morning. Now, this sounded more serious than usual. She has had her mood swings in the past but always managed to get past them. I suggested she read some of Julia E. Hubbell’s no-nonsense articles on health since my advice had no effect (Julia E Hubbel). I also suggested she write down her feelings. Maybe she could see things more clearly once they were on paper.
Well, she went a step further than writing a journal. She took her “cause” to social media. And she wrote. And wrote, and wrote, and wrote. She poured her heart out. She got a gazillion followers. She then felt justified in her actions which only made her continue the same lifestyle. She posted photos of her daughter who is adorable. She sounded better. I thought maybe she had found peace.
Until I got an email telling me she couldn’t stand the sight of herself. Her depression was worse than ever. Even some of her social media “friends” were starting to bail. So, we set up a Zoom session.
It’s hard to be tactful when you see the ugly truth staring at you. Shelley had blown up to a size I had never seen before which I blamed on confinement since it’s an easy excuse. But I almost didn’t recognize Daisy. The child had turned into her mother. And then came the photos of their most recent celebration. Not sure what the cause was — maybe just a cheering-up session. The photos were of food. And only food. Photos of steaks the size of my head with matching baked potatoes slathered in butter and sour cream, with milkshakes to wash it all down. Cookies, donuts, cake — with frosting dripping down their sides. And the latest discovery: Cereal Snacks! About the size of a potato chip, these large sugary snacks make it easier to get that sugar rush. There is no longer a need to shove your hand down the box to shovel some of that sugary goodness into your mouth. Another case of bigger being better, this wacky but sure to be a successful product was created after manufacturers noticed consumers’ love of all-day cereal snacking.
And this is how our friendship ended.
Dismayed by what I saw, I once again tried to tactfully place a few words. Ok, maybe not so tactfully but seeing Daisy as the reincarnation of her mother saddened me, to say the least. Again, I mentioned that fruit was a good alternative to junk sweets. Healthy food didn’t cost that much since there is no need to shop at Whole Foods and only eat designer kale. I personally buried all thoughts of kale when it was shoved at me in Whole Foods — I spit it out at the nearest chic spittoon in aisle 12.
I mentioned that I had quit eating all added sugar and felt a big difference. Not so much in weight loss but in attitude and my self-esteem. I had been on the well-known rollercoaster that is sugar highs and lows. Since I stopped, I have lost a little weight, feel better but, more importantly, have avoided my annual bronchitis. A while ago, I consulted a “natural” specialist about my loss of sense of smell and taste. He said it was the sugar: come off it and those senses will not only come back but the mucous caused by sugar will decrease and my health would improve. He was right.
I also explained that I wasn’t perfect. Like a lot of people, I eat for emotional reasons. The other day I felt frustrated and down. I found some milk chocolate truffles lurking in the back of a cupboard (none of that 1,000 percent cocoa dark stuff — I loathe it). I ate them all and felt like throwing up. Was I satisfied? Nope. Was I happier? Nope.
And then came what finally killed the friendship. I told her that exercise was free. The body is the best exercise machine and the sidewalk the best gym. Even a short walk helps. It makes your body move, it makes your eyes see beauty and it makes your brain switch from dark thoughts to a realistic one: you are alive. Shelley muttered the usual excuses while Daisy chomped on something pink.
She also said that her social media “friends” were her only real friends. They told her they were touched by her honesty, she was beautiful and should be proud of raising such a beautiful child. They even went so far as offering to give her money so she could get some obscure medical treatment to help her in this dire situation.
Society is starting to treat the obese with kid gloves. I understand that the word “fat” can be insulting. But most anything said to them is recently perceived as an insult. They have rights and they want to be heard. I get that. Have they started demonstrating yet? If not, they soon will. They complain of not having enough seating space on public transport. Of having doctors they consult tell them just to eat less and move more. Hard to believe that’s an insult but apparently it is.
Needless to say, Shelley and I have not spoken since the Zoom session. She does not return my calls.
