Shame on You, Shame on Me

I decided to sign up for Weight Watchers today. Not because of any resolutions for 2016, or because of any external pressure to create a "new me". I made the choice because, for me, it's time. Time to take control, do what's good for my body, my system, and my health. Yet, thanks to social media, I feel just as stigmatized for making this choice as I would (and have) for being overweight in the first place.

Just today, I saw a post by a body-love activist, wagging her finger at Weight Watchers and the diet industry for shaming women into believing they have to be thin to be "okay". I cringed as I read it, because while these activists believe they are promoting self-love and acceptance (which we all need), they are actually shaming people - mostly women - for dieting. How is that any better than the jack-asses who shame people for being fat?

Why can't we just leave each other alone? Let me make my choices, and if you don't agree with them, do so quietly, perhaps with your friends, not on a social network. You don't know what anyone's struggles are, or what made them choose to spend money on a program that they believe will help them regain control of their eating and their weight. You can't know.

Every day, I see posts preaching at me to love the body I'm in, to not be ashamed because I'm fat, to be grateful for what my body can do for me, and to hell with anyone who tries to tell me my size determines my worth. First, let me be clear: I'm all for self-acceptance, as self-loathing gets us nowhere. However, accepting the whole of one's self is not the same thing as wanting to make changes, to improve something about ourselves (be it our minds, moods, or physical make-up) because we want to continue to like and enjoy who we are. I can love who I am and hate the body I'm in. Who has the right to tell me that's not okay?

The activists and bloggers tell all of us fat girls to claim our bodies, to own our bodies, be proud of them and wear whatever we want and do whatever we want. And there are people who have, and can, own the body they live in. But some of us can't. Some of us have been betrayed in ways that make our bodies unsafe places. We can't love a body that has been used, violated, or perhaps attacked. There is no protection from that kind of vulnerability, so we find ways to hurt ourselves, to strike back against our bodies. Some of us eat, some of us drink, some of us abuse drugs, some of us won't eat at all. This is our way of revolting against that which we could not revolt in the past. We don't know any other way.

At some point, if we're lucky, we reach a point of awareness, and we recognize that damaging our bodies, treating them as though they are the "other", separate from ourselves, or even The Enemy, is not helping. It is not healing, either. We recognize that there is another way. Maybe more than one way. I have reached this point and I have chosen my path. I don't need anyone to tell me that it's okay to join Weight Watchers; I don't need anyone to tell me it's not okay, that I'm wasting my money and I'm just going to fail, or gain every pound back. I don't need anyone's permission to do what I think is right for myself. Nor would I need permission from anyone if I chose to remain overweight. The choices are mine. The actions are mine.

I don't want to rise up against the body-love movement as a premise - there is great merit in learning to accept and understand that every body is different and has its own story. But the movement does no service by shaming people into believing that they're doing something wrong by choosing to lose weight. If I don't like my body and I have the power and means to change it, why do they care?

At the same time, I wholeheartedly agree that the media has us programmed to believe that if we are fat, we are failures - at everything. That we're not enough. So they create standards which only a tiny fraction of the population can meet, leaving the rest of us feeling like failures. Commercials and ads for fad diets, weight loss programs, fitness centers, diet pills and products - they all shame us in one way or another until we feel so horrible about ourselves that we buy into the message either by eating ourselves into obesity or pouring money into something we think will "fix it".

Do I believe that Weight Watchers will save me? No. But I am willing to spend my money on it while I learn new ways of approaching food (and believe me, I've fought this concept for a long time), while I learn to be accountable to myself and a friend or two so I don't give up if my efforts seem futile, and find new ways of coping with life that don't involve food. That means I'm going to have to deal with some heavy shit, and that means I'm going to experience some heavy emotions. It's all part of the process, and that is what the industry doesn't say when they coax us into their programs. It isn't only about food.

I'm not doing this because I want others to like how I look - I am smart enough to know that no one else sees what I see - I am doing it because I want to like how I look. That's all that matters. So, thank you, body-love activists, I appreciate your intentions, but I don't need you to tell me how to love myself. Because this? My choice to use Weight Watchers as a starting point to lose weight and feel better about myself? It's about me. And it's none of your business.