Cause and Effect

Obesity has become a hot topic of discussion lately. From medical bulletins about the growing epidemic to a flurry of celebrity surgical by-pass success stories, America is being fed a groaning smorgasboard of facts, figures, predictions, suggestions, fears, and warnings -- and the amount of money being thrown at the problem each year is increasing faster than America's waistlines. Fifty billion, sixty billion, seventy billion dollars a year being spent by Americans to lose weight. Public service announcements; revamping the food pyramid; catastrophic medical warnings about the increased risks for heart disease, stroke and diabetes (and the related costs to "society" of medical treatments) ; celebrities in fat suits having tearful realizations about how badly most people treat obese people; fast-food exposes; interventions; an endless parade on the news of neck-down "on the street" footage featuring jiggly asses, balloon bellies, and non-existent ankles; exponential increases in expensive surgical procedures -- all this and more -- and still we get fatter, less fit, less healthy.

I was normal weight until I was five. After that I was chubby. When I was eight, my mom took me to the pediatrician and I was put on a low calorie diet. I lost 10 pounds. By age 12, I weighed 150 pounds. At 14, my mom and I joined Weight Watchers and we both lost 20 pounds. By the age of 17, I was 5'11" and about 240 pounds. At 18, I was at 325. At 19, I went on a protein-sparing modified fast and dropped 100 pounds in 9 months; two years later, I had gained it all back plus another 50. At age 26 I went back on the fast and dropped 100 again, then immediately gained it back - plus more. I hovered somewhere between 350 and 400 pounds and began about twenty "programs" over the next seven or eight years without much success, then jumped on the phen-fen bandwagon, started exercising regularly, and lost over 150 pounds. The thinnest I ever got was 314 pounds. Yes, I call it "thin," because that's my perspective. Over the course of the next few years, I gained almost 200 pounds, topping out six months ago at just over 500.

I can point to all sorts of circumstances, genetics, tragedies, rationalizations, failures, explanations - a world of excuses - why I was fat.

I have felt awful - ashamed, humiliated, embarrassed, deeply depressed and mournful about the life I might have had were I not fat -- almost all my life. I have been made well-aware of society's disgust and scorn. I have had strangers say and do the most hateful things when they've seen me. People I love (and who love me) have looked upon me with pity, despair, and disappointment.

Every single time I've resolved to lose weight and get fit, the catalyst has been a moment so low, so full of self-disgust and self-hate that I had to do something drastic to make a change. In other words, I've hit bottom - many times.

Every single time I've lost weight, become more active, made positive changes in my life, I've sworn - SWORN - that I would never ever go back to the life I hated, that I would NEVER gain weight again.

Every single time I've lost weight, I told myself that "this time it's different," but it really wasn't.

Every single time I've lost weight, I've had a devastating situation or circumstance crop up in my life, whether completely out of my control or self-precipitated, that I allowed to interfere with my being able or wanting to stay on track, and with a huge wave of (familiar) sadness and defeat, I'd throw it all away, return to old patterns of eating, and I'd gain it all back, plus more.

Sometimes success on a diet would come at the expense of another area of my life spinning out of control: spending, drug use, destructive behavior in relationships, destructive behavior on the job. Whatever happiness I was putting together for myself by losing weight was dissipated by an equivalent amount of despair and worry over the compensatory self-hating behavior.

Going on a program was like dancing on the edge of a knife: in a split-second, success would become failure. Whatever resolve or willpower - or hope - I mustered would die in a moment of agonizing defeat, and whatever progress I had made would be buried in an avalanche of self-destructive behavior.

I've seen a psychologist. I've read hundreds of self-help, diet and workout books. I've belonged to churches and other spiritual communities. I've made huge changes in my daily circumstances. I've joined gyms, hired personal trainers and aerobicized to videos. I've said my daily affirmations. I've prayed. I've meditated. Friends have tearfully and solemnly encouraged me to get help. I've made commitments to myself, my partners, my family and friends.

Cogito ergo Sum: I think, therefore I am. I'm obese, therefore I'm unhappy. Of course I'm unhappy - I'm obese. I've been full of self-loathing for as long as I remember - after all, I'm obese! How can I love myself if I'm fat? How can any sense of self-esteem or self-appreciation live in a fat body? Shouldn't I hate myself? Don't I have a lifetime of justifications for not loving myself?

Which came first, the obesity or the lack of loving myself? Does a lifetime of obesity cause a lifetime of self-hate? Or does a lifetime of self-hate cause a lifetime of obesity? Does self-hate breed behavior, situations and circumstance that legitimize the self-hate? Am I justified in hating myself because I'm fat and because I've done all these hateful, self-destructive things?

Slowly, slowly, slowly, slowly - like the tiniest seed deep in the frozen dirt, making its first attempt to sprout, comes the germ of a thought - what if obesity is the symptom and the inability to love myself is the cause? Can I be obese AND love myself? Can I learn to love myself, regardless of my weight? And if I learn to love myself, will the obesity fall away?

This blog will explore my journey from self-hatred to self-love. I expect there will be many challenges along the way. I am persuaded that with this fundamental shift in my core belief, I will experience a shift in behaviors and, therefore, a shift in consequences. I believe that self-love breeds self-care, which brings the ability to begin and maintain constructive behaviors, resulting in a life that is a reflection of my self-love instead of self-hate.