Oh Quit Moaning

So I was at the heart clinic the other day. Wasn’t looking forward to going. Not at all. You see, I was supposed to be tested for sleep apnea in July. That was the month I lost my health insurance. We couldn’t afford to pay for the test, so I canceled it. Then, also in July, I was supposed to return to the regular clinic and have my blood retested for the doctor treating my diabetes. Couldn’t afford that either. Didn’t go. In November I was scheduled to have another echogram on my heart. Well, last year I had insurance – and it refused to pay. Took us ten months to pay it off. That, and the monthly premium for the insurance that wouldn’t cover it, contributed mightily to our losing the house this year. In any case, I canceled the echogram.

I was going to cancel the doctor visit, too, but Spouse insisted. Of course, Spouse insisted I keep the insurance – which paid for some of the cost of prescriptions. But I went.

I didn’t get yelled at like I always do about sleep apnea. It came out early on that we had lost the house and I no longer had insurance. But I felt no better leaving than I did arriving. Actually, I felt a bit worse. You see, he just confirmed what I have always suspected to be true: it’s all my fault.

Why is it all my fault? Because – I’m fat.

All of my problems are a result of being fat. If I wasn’t fat I wouldn’t have lost my job. If I wasn’t fat I could get a new job. If I wasn’t fat I wouldn’t nearly die every time I climb up those effing stairs to get to the apartment. If I wasn’t fat I would fee good about myself. If I wasn’t fat I wouldn’t have lost my house. If I wasn’t fat the weather would be nice. If I wasn’t fat the economy wouldn’t have gone into the toilet. If I wasn’t fat we could have found a cure for diabetes, aides, leukemia, and who knows how many other diseases? If I wasn’t fat there wouldn’t be war in Afghanistan and Iraq.

So much misery. Just because I’m fat.

Well, so much for the bad news. I’m fat.

The good news is that I’m intelligent.

Now I didn’t argue this point at the time. What would be the point? But let’s consider the facts as they were presented to me.

1. All of my misery is a direct result of my being fat
2. Only I can change my being fat into my being thin
3. I know, and have known, this for a long time
4. I am still fat, despite knowing all of this

Pardon my wondering, but where is the intelligence in that equation?

You see, there is a fundamental problem with thin people looking at fat people and thinking, “If they really wanted to be thin they could.”

At some level that is absolutely true. But only at some level. There are a host of other levels which come into play and CANNOT be ignored. Self-esteem is major contributor to the equation.

People think fat people are unhappy because they’re fat, and if they would simply stop being fat they would be happy. In some cases that is completely true. But not in every case. Some people are not unhappy because they’re fat. They’re fat because they’re unhappy. And simply changing their weight is NOT going to change their mood. Why? Because their mood is not based on their weight. Their weight is based on their mood.

The reasons why anybody has low self-esteem are complex and varied. To a point everyone has to deal with it. Nobody is liked by everybody, and nobody is great at everything. But some of us happen to be a bit more gullible about some things than others.

To be told by one’s mother that one is hated, useless, disgusting, and never should have been born in the first place, all while being struck with whatever weapon was handy, affects one’s self-esteem. Should one grow up and get over it? Yes. One should. One should do a lot of things. But when such beatings, physical and verbal, occur regularly, and one accepts the truth of the words being inflicted, it’s hard. I’m sorry. It just is.

And when others reinforce the words with words of their own. The boy who was friendly simply to get one in range of the rock he was holding. Would be friends and lovers who saw one had something, and once they had got what they wanted no longer needed one, and so no longer behaved as friends. All of these things make a difference.

Should they? I guess not. And according to what I am told, strong people, smart people, good people, overcome these things.

Well, I guess I am not strong. I am not smart. And I am not good. So what am I?

I am fat.

And until that changes I will be miserable. Never mind that I have been fat for less than half my life. And never mind that I was miserable before I was fat. If I would just lose the weight I need to lose I could return to what I was before I was fat. Miserable.

Where’s my motivation?