I was fatphobic, and now, I’m fat

An over-50 Generation-Xer sees life through a new lens: Kathy’s Window is where Kathy shares her thoughts on the world through a new lens. From growing up in the 70s and 80s to having three Generation-Z kids, and going through certain experiences in her life, she now sees the world in a different way. Ideas that were considered the norm in the 70s, 80s and 90s are now no longer socially relevant or acceptable by younger generations. Kathy explores the new ideas through the lens of someone who has been on both sides of the ‘glass’.

I GREW up in the 70s and 80s, and diet culture was already deeply ingrained in Western society by then. South African culture was infused with it, too. I have no idea where I picked up the idea that being fat was something to be feared, especially as a girl and a woman, but it affected me deeply. I was always thin. In fact, noticeably so. People would say that I was so lucky, that I could eat whatever I liked and never put on weight. I used to think I was better than those who were fat – that I was more attractive. As I entered my twenties and became an adult, I began to think it was my lifestyle that made me this way – because I ate the ‘right’ foods and exercised. My superiority complex became more ingrained and my fear of fat more all-encompassing. I practised fatphobia, and I didn’t even know that was a thing then.

I used to ‘body check’ in the mirror all the time to make sure my stomach wasn’t protruding too much as even though I was skinny, I always had a bit of a tummy. I hated it and didn’t want it to grow. When I got married, that behaviour continued and worsened. I knew my then-husband liked my ‘slender’ figure, so I thought I was doing well keeping myself that way.

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Then life happened…

I developed some thyroid issues in my late 30s, and with entering perimenopause, my hormones changed my body. I put on a bit of weight around my hips, thighs and stomach, but still by the world’s standards, I was straight-sized – straight-sized is being an ‘acceptable weight’ and not considered as significantly overweight or obese.

Someone in our social circle had started the Paleo Diet and recommended it to me. When she explained about cutting out carbs and adding fats, and how healthy it is and how quickly you can lose weight, I was hooked. (This was before the Banting Diet became a thing in South Africa after 2013, when Tim Noakes brought out The Real Meal Revolution book.) I went into it with gusto. When I cut out foods, I can be pedantic about it.

Anyway, the kilos dropped off. I went down to almost my former self before hormones had caused me to put on weight. But, I felt awful. Besides the struggle of having to cook different meals from the rest of the family and buy expensive food, I was constantly fatigued, often out of breath, had muscle and joint aches, and literally thought I might be dying. My digestive system was a mess. I developed allergies. My libido all but disappeared, and I couldn’t go for a run anymore.

Eventually, two and a half years later, I suddenly wondered if maybe the way I ate was to blame for my ill health, and in desperation, I started eating carbs again. The Banting and Paleo diets may be effective in improving the health of some people – it just didn’t work for me, and I possibly did it wrong. I relished a simple high-carb meal of rice cakes and peanut butter. Immediately, I felt calmer and more satisfied than I’d felt in years. I could drive to the shop without having a panic attack, and my muscle aches disappeared in days.

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Recovery comes with drawbacks

I put on weight – and more than before – the result of bringing my body out of a starvation/famine state at a now-compromised metabolism. I eventually put on about four dress sizes. Yet, I felt so much better, my energy had returned, and my digestive system was healing. At about the time of this happening, I found the Body Positivity movement online. I found out that there were fat people who were learning to accept themselves because of being burned out by chronic yo-yo dieting. I read up on the Health at Every Size Movement and followed plus-size Instagrammers to learn to appreciate people of all sizes.

Years have gone by, and I still struggle with internalised fatphobia. It’s all around us – everywhere we look – in magazines, on TV, in books, in communities, so it’s very hard to let go of the programming. I’ve had to grieve my thin body while also dealing with comments and looks at my different self. Besides eating the same quantities as I did while thin, I’m looked upon as lazy and unworthy by society now just because of what my body has done to keep me alive. Thankfully, fatphobia isn’t as bad in South Africa as it is in the States, but we still have a long way to go in changing the way we talk to ourselves and those around us.

In the next few articles, I want to address ways that we can change our thinking about fatness. Women of all shapes and sizes are affected by fatphobia. And so are men. I was not immune when I was thin. I lived in fear, thinking that being fat would be one of the worst things to happen to me, that I would become undesirable and unattractive if that happened. It’s been a grieving process for me, accepting my different body. I’ve had to accept that I may be judged when I eat or exercise in public. I have to accept that dating and buying clothes are harder and more complicated.

I have chosen not to diet to change my body but instead to eat and move for my nourishment, enjoyment and well-being instead, whether that causes weight loss or not. I choose every day to put my health and mental health first. I choose to see my value as much more than how I look – and so should every woman – and man. Yes, my mind and emotions don’t always follow that choice, and it’s an ongoing battle, but at least I know that self-love wins.

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