when you tell me you want to lose weight or get fit “just for you”.

You and me, we’ve both grown up within the same systems. The same societies. Under the rule of white supremacy, capitalism and patriarchy – something Tamu Thomas calls the “oppressive trinity” in her book Women Who Work Too Much. This trinity is the perfect breeding ground for fatphobia, which in itself is deeply rooted in anti-Black racism.

You can’t escape

I mean, you quite literally can’t escape. To get to the above picture, I typed “fat women” into the Canva picture database. Nothing about losing weight, but GOSH was everything about intentional weight loss. What happens, if I just want to show an array of different shapes on my marketing material? Apparently, that’s not acceptable. Thank you for nothing, Canva, yet again.

Anyway, this is just one example of how we cannot escape the fatphobic messaging in our Western societies. The major mindfuck is our “healthcare” system. From when I was little, the doctors were on my case talking about diets. Because I was “chubby”. I was a child. A lot of children are chubby. That’s the whole point of childhood. Not caring about what your body looks like and just letting it settle wherever it wants to settle. But no, no, these doctors are after us! Put the five year old on a diet! It surely won’t mess with their life later… Well.

It did mess with my life. Massively, in fact. Those diets, that messaging from doctors and my family who took their advice messed me up big time. My body image was shot before I knew what that even was.

I’ve always been the fat kid

There was no time in my life when I wasn’t the fat kid. It started in kindergarten, when there had to be more “strong boys” to lift up the chair I was sitting on for my birthday than for anyone else’s. Which was probably not even true, but the thought had already deeply penetrated my mind. I was called fat and names I can’t recall. I was ostracised and bullied before I even entered school. I was picked last for things, especially physical activities. At six years old, we were competing against each other to be the slimmest, most beautiful, most popular person in the room.

Come school age, the bullies got more forceful. I was called a fat sow (that’s a female pig in case you didn’t know that), a whale (Free Willy was a popular mention) and a crybaby. Because guess what? Being bullied is cruel and it hurts. I cried a lot. At school and at home. Sometimes, it stopped the attacks. Other times it didn’t. It mostly got me sympathy at home, even though I could rarely articulate what had happened. In fact, I do not remember one single conversation I had at home that revolved around my being bullied. The most I can recall was me saying that people had said “mean things” to me.

Family joined the chat

When you’re fat, everyone has an opinion on your body and therefore – somehow – on your health. Not only that, they also seem to think that they have the right, no, the obligation to voice that opinion. To help you, of course. My family wasn’t an exception to that rule. Most of them fat, too, they had to hear it for years, probably decades. From doctors, the media, friends and family. Naturally, they passed that on to me. My mum, the “crazy” one, was the only one who didn’t.

But I didn’t live with my mum. I lived with my grandparents who were fully indoctrinated by the system. Doctors’ advice was heeded as gospel. My grandma was on diet after diet after diet and brought my mum along with her. Their weights yo-yoed around, but never settled on slim; always on fat. There are whole studies now that predict this outcome. One of the things my grandma used to say to my mum when she was stomping around was “Schweben, Ulla, schweben!”, which means “Float, Ulla, float!” Float. We’re humans. On Earth. We’re not meant to float. We’re meant to put our feet on the ground and that will inevitably make a noise. But no. We had to float. Before you come for my grandma now, don’t. I loved her dearly and she was just the product of her upbringing and environment. She truly didn’t know any better and gave me the childhood among my family that I otherwise wouldn’t have had. I don’t blame her for one second. If she was still alive, we’d be having conversations.

She harmed me nonetheless. The messaging was there. The next diet just around the corner. I was growing. But I wasn’t supposed to grow in body mass. Just in height. Something everyone was excited for, so the weight would redistribute.

Friends being casually fatphobic

“Oh, is she a better person now that she’s thin?”

“Yeah, but you’re not THAT fat!” or “…not like THAT!”

“I’m getting a belly. It needs to go…” *PinchesExcessSkinOnBelly*

“I was bad today, having this chocolate bar. I’m usually better at healthy eating, I promise…”

Gosh, I could go on forever. It is hard enough to hear and read things like that in literally every public space (including the doctor’s office, which is supposed to be a safe space), but hearing your closest friends say these things? That’s a special kind of torture. Yes, I have addressed these things. No, nobody has really taken accountability or apologised for this shit. Just looked at me like a beaten dog. Because they don’t even realise they’ve done or said something wrong. Because fatphobia is socially acceptable – even encouraged – and completely normalised.

I once had a difficult conversation with a dear friend who had sent me a recommendation to something (a book or podcast), which was a common occurrence at the time; we’d send each other shit and, based on a new (somewhat unspoken) agreement, it still happens today. Anyway. I had told them to please not send me recommendations to people(‘s work) who are fatphobic anymore, e.g. those who actively promote intentional weight loss and equate thinness with health. Yes, I was blunt and quite harsh because I had made that point several times already.

Here they came with the usual “I don’t want to walk on eggshells” (not in those words, but in that sentiment) and “you can’t avoid the world, it’s everywhere”. Yeah, exactly. Because it is everywhere, I want my safe spaces (spaces which I share with my friends, like my WhatsApp) to be free of that nonsense. Nonsense that literally triggers trauma for me. Why is that too much to ask? It takes me 30 seconds to figure out if someone is fatphobic from their online presence. It may take you or my friend two or three minutes. If I’m not worth those few minutes, I frankly don’t want to be friends. They were hurt. I didn’t care.

You can call me a cold hearted bitch now, but if your behaviour causes harm, you need to own that shit, apologise and ensure that it never fucking happens again. We’re all grown ups, it is really fucking easy to do all of that. We sat in that discomfort together and we were able to move on from that. This friendship is dear to me and I make an effort to hold discomfort, so we both learn together. Strangers online or people I have just met in an online or real life space? Can fuck all the way off. I’m not tolerating their bullshit.

The doctor’s office

Inevitably, this is where we land. Because no matter how much time fat people spend on being our healthiest selves to prove the world wrong (“I’m fat but I’m healthy, look at me, a healthy fat!”), we do get ill at times. More often than not, and especially when it may be something really serious, we are told to lose weight. Cold? Lose weight. Covid? Lose weight, it’s your fault we’re in this mess anyway. (message sponsored by the British government) Stomach issues? Lose weight. Diabetes? Lose weight; you really brought that one on yourself, being fat. Tumors? Lose weight. It may just be fat after all.

Witches, this is where it gets dangerous; very, very dangerous. Life-threatening, in fact. When doctors don’t believe you and are disgusted by you (I’ve had my fair share of that), you are in big trouble. I’d say out of every 12-15 doctors, I have one experience where a doctor is weight inclusive. One. People have been misdiagnosed, had cancer advance to the point of no return and been sent away with horrible pain and no solution beyond “take paracetamol” because they’re fat. Medical fatphobia is the reason I’ve had a full year of doctors not doing anything towards a diagnosis, which should have been perimenopause abooouuut… 12 years ago, straight after my cancer treatment ended.

My mental health – especially my anxiety – takes such a huge dip before every doctor’s appointment (even the phone ones) that my body brings on the strongest reactions as well. I get thoroughly sick before an appointment; often to the point where I can’t go at all, even though I really have to because it’s a specialist appointment I’ve waited six months for. I know many fat people have the same visceral reactions and suffer way longer than they need to, because they’re avoiding their fatphobic doctors.

What to do?

So, you know, I get it. The messaging is everywhere. Everyone and their grandma thinks that thin = healthy and the messaging is insidious in everything we do. Go to a restaurant? Calories on the menu. Walk around town? Huge banners for weight loss groups meeting at a church or community centre. Reading a book? Unnecessary mentions of weight loss as an example for goal setting or of “obesity” as a disease. Being coached? Exact same thing. Most coaches are too lazy to think of other examples, away from eating and exercise for weight loss (instead of, for example, moving for your mental health…). Looking for perimenopause advice? GET RID OF THAT BELLY FAT RIGHT NOW OR YOU WILL DIE. Again, could go on forever. Once you see it, you (hopefully) can’t unsee it.

You’re not doing it for you

With all these things going on all the time and your life going the way it does, with those responsibilites and duties and whatever else, OF COURSE you will think you are the problem. And once you lose weight, everything will be sparkly and you’ll shit rainbows.

When everyone tells you all the time that this is how it goes, you start believing it. Then you see your (fat) friends talking about having ditched the diets and loving their bodies and you want to support them. But you still think being fat is wrong. Maybe not for your friend, but definitely for you. You are the problem. You need to lose weight. And you’re doing it for your health, because you are SO unfit and SUCH A BAD PERSON for wanting chocolate all the time (when you’re starving yourself… NO WONDER?!) and, yeah, it will 100% solve all your problems. Especially everything concerning your health. You have all these healthy plans of what you’re gonna do once you’ve lost the weight and you’re totally still supporting your fat friend and they’re great and it even suits them. Just for you, it’s just not right to be fat. Or fatter than now. Those pictures when you were 20! That was the right weight for you! Yes. Absolutely. You’re just doing it for you, you are convinced.

Except… you’re not doing it for you. Or for your health. Because chances are, your health will suffer. First your mental health, then your physical health. If you don’t believe me, go read the studies. Not the summaries in weird arse journals, not some meta analysis sponsored by pharmaceutical companies who sell weight loss drugs, no. Read the actual studies. I’ll help you get your hands on them.

So your health will suffer if you go on an intentional weight loss journey. What else is there? Oh, society, right. Now THAT is real. Being treated better, taken more seriously, getting higher ranked jobs (that pay better), being able to buy clothes in any shop on the high street… Those things are true and will happen when you lose weight to the point of getting to straight sized. And that’s what you’re doing it for. Now, I don’t blame you if that’s your story. I GET it. I would never shame anyone who goes on diets because of these pressures. Or chooses weight loss drugs/surgeries (although I WILL try and talk you out of those because they are seriously dangerous for you!). You’re on your own journey with that. But consider this…

What would you rather be? Accepted for who you are with all your heart and soul and quirks? Or for your body and for as long as it doesn’t change?

I’ve made my choice. Make yours carefully. And stop lying to yourself.

Stay magnificent. Stay witchy.