Shameless

Debbie Cutler

Peter Paul Rubens

Word Count 1525

As I stand on the scale at my doctor’s office, I watch the numbers unfold before me. I’m the size of at least two. 

 Still, I don’t flinch. I don’t self-blame. I don’t fill my mind with shame. I know, as a vegetarian who loves fruits and vegetables, rarely eats sugar, eats three small to regular meals a day, rarely snacks, and whose only real vice is an occasional slice or two of pizza and a couple beers or glasses of wine in the evening, I am fine just the way I am.

 Oh sure, I’d love to be slimmer. But PTSD meds have changed my metabolism, which was sluggish to begin with, making it near impossible to lose weight. Since being on Abilify to combat depression, severe hyperarousal and debilitating nightmares, I have gained more than 100 pounds. I slowly came to the realization sanity came before body shape, and food is not my enemy. It’s people’s perceptions of obesity that kill.

 I was at a restaurant the other day with a group of middle-aged women, most of whom were retired or did not work because family finances could afford them not to. I was shocked as each described their diets. They all were eliminating something from the menu. “No bread,” “No sauce” “No butter.” “No wine.” Some even rejected carrots. Carrots – just the few that topped their salads. 

 I looked at them while they were fretting about this and that, wondering if they even enjoyed their meal out with the ladies. They were obsessed with food, each describing what they were doing to make sure a single pound didn’t slip on them. Food was their frenemy. They loved it; they hated it; and they thought too much about it. One even declined a trip to see relatives or friends because she felt too heavy. In reality, she was perfect.

 Only two of us appeared above average in weight, both of us healthy in size. “Watch what you eat,” one thin lady said to the other heavy one. I was horrified at the suggestion. Why single her out? Why try to make her feel bad about her body? Fat shaming is not ok. 

 I know because I’ve experienced a lifetime of it.

 At five, I was slightly overweight compared to my peers. I remember sitting on a bench in Sear’s Department Store waiting for my mom and dad to finish shopping. An old man came up to me, gave me a quick look over and said, “My, you are a plump one.” Those words have haunted me most my life. I don’t remember much about being five, but I do remember how he made me feel. It was the start of being less than, of weight mattering, of realizing I was judged by appearance rather than personality, heart, soul.

 Soon after, I started kindergarten. A friend from preschool, Mark Pollock, who I was very fond of, was going to my school as well. We were the best of friends and held hands on the playground at preschool. But we went at different times for kindergarten. I had the morning classes, him afternoon, or vice versa.

 I was continuing to grow shameful about my looks – partly due to others in my kindergarten class who did not invite me to parties, partly because I was left friendless alone on the playground, but mainly due to cruel comments of classmates, such as “fatso” or “fatty” or “cut one,” the latter referring to my last name.

 One day, I saw Mark. It was between the time one of us was to go home and the other of us arrive. He ran across the playground toward me yelling “Debbie, Debbie.” I did not want to be hurt by him, rejected by my looks like other kids had. So, I hurt him first. I stuck out my tongue and walked away. I remember his scarred look to this day. I never saw nor talked to him again.

 I also remember around second grade finally being invited to a birthday party. A girl ran up to me on the playground and handed me an invitation to classmate Laura’s party. I was thrilled. It was my first time in primary school I was invited to someone’s birthday.

 My mom and I rode bikes to her house, which was a couple miles from mine. As I knocked on the door, my mom rode away saying she would be back in a few hours. Laura opened the door.

 “What are you doing here?” she asked.

 “I was invited,” I said. I held out the invitation with my name on it.

 “That was meant for the other Debbie, not you,” she shouted.

 Her mom quickly ushered me in, but it was clear I was not wanted. I sat in the corner feeling like crying, feeling like an outcast as others played party games. I don’t remember anyone trying to include me, though her mom gave me cake and ice cream. The hurt still swells in my heart to this day.

 Throughout junior high and the early part of high school, I was also fat shamed, though it was not called that then. I was mocked and laughed at while walking from class to class. I remember one group of boys crying out, “Ohhhh, Debbie, I want to go out with you,” as they all cracked up laughing. This was a daily occurrence and fear and dread swelled as I approached math class each day, knowing they would be there with their cruel ways, always laughing at me.

 As a result, I ate my lunch on the toilet and stayed there through the lunch break so nobody would make fun of me or know I did not have anyone to eat with. Nobody seemed to notice.

 Between my sophomore and junior year, I lost weight, shot up in height, got rid of my glasses and braces. I didn’t know it, but my junior year I went to school a new me. Nobody recognized me. The cruelties stopped and I was even invited out by some of the popular kids. I became part of an in crowd and would do anything to keep me there.

 I stayed thin throughout high school and early adulthood. At age 38, I had a mental breakdown that resulted in me being hospitalized. I had too much trauma in my life – rape by a boyfriend, my parents throwing me out at 17, facing homelessness at a young age,  military sexual trauma, spousal abuse – I came out on meds that made me feel better but started adding pounds immediately. I did everything I could to combat the weight gain.

 I hiked to the top of Alaska mountains on weekends. I walked at least two miles a night with my dog. I also walked miles and miles in the wilderness with friends. The weight still continued to accumulate. I soon became unable to do any of the outdoor activities I had grown to love.

 There are many reasons for weight gain not related to food: Hypothyroidism, which I also have. Depression, which increases cortisol levels; insomnia, which also affects the body’s hormones; menopause; Cushing’s Disease, caused by a stress hormone; and much more. 

 Many emotional eat to feel better about the pains of their past. They need medical help, not criticism. In fact, obesity is a disease and should be treated as such. It’s not always “food in,” as my dad once said criticizing my weight gain. And even if it is, who are we to judge?

 Our society fat shames. 

 Food at its best is nourishment, at its worst is a killer for those with poor body image. Yes, people die from not eating due to fear of weight gain. And not just a few, thousands.

 I’m thankful it did not kill me. I never did become anorexic or bulimic, but I dieted for years without success. I am partly to blame for my daughters’ views of their bodies because during their teenage years, before I accepted myself and my weight, I said repeatedly, “No man will ever love me because I am fat.” This impacted my daughters greatly. And for that I am profusely sorry.

 I was a part of fat shamers, even if I was only doing it to myself. I am happy now to say I have overcome poor body image, at least for the most part. Mainly because I was forced to reckon with it or live unhappily forever. 

 I don’t care that I am overweight except for some health concerns I do address by food selections. I enjoy food, though don’t overthink about it. 

 And now when I get off the scale at the doctor’s office, I remind myself I am okay as I am, and I think of how lucky I am to have many best friends who love and accept me as I’ve learned to surround myself with men and women with beautiful minds, who don’t judge me for weight or anything else really. They see beyond my weight and other limitations into who I am at heart. And that’s what really matters. 

Debbie is an award-winning writer who is published in dozens of magazines and lit journals. She wrote this before weight loss injections were popular and available, and has since lost 76+ pounds thanks to her injections, eating habits and exercise, including swimming and weight training.