My fat Self

A new article came out at Canada.com about the bias against fat people. It reiterated a point I have thought about a lot over the last year. If the fat population (overweight, obese, morbidly obese) is at half or almost half the population in the US, why is it that they allow themselves to be treated like such shit but the medical system, clothing manufacturers and so on? Granted I know the answer is along the analogy that most of my Jr. High was bullied by one girl, I still don’t understand the lack of revolt.

One of the things this article mentioned that I hadn’t thought of until I moved back to Canada for a half year a few years ago, was the discrimination of fat people in the medical community. My experience with doctors has always been a seemingly unbiased approach to my health. There are things that have happened to me that were a result of my weight (shin splints when running 2km a day in Thailand). These things, when mentioned by my doctor, I took as fact because my entire physical wellbeing wasn’t determined by the fact I was fat. Each situation felt like it was being evaluated for what it was. My running gate was altered because my thighs are big and the front of my leg didn't compensate appropriately. Then I had a doctor in Canada who was cruel. Plain and simple. The experience I had in her office has forever changed my view of the medical establishment as being something above society’s stigmas.

“More than half of 620 doctors surveyed view obese patients as ``awkward,'' ``unattractive,'' ``ugly'' and ``non-compliant.''”

“In surveys, medical students report ``with nearly total agreement,'' that severely obese patients are the most common target of derogatory humour by doctors, residents and students, most often in surgery or obstetrics-gynecology settings. Overweight and obese children are also targets of humour, they said.”

So when I come home from an appointment with my doctor, who says I am having a perfect pregnancy, that there is nothing that could be better and I should be very proud, and then go to see the midwife who says that I MUST labour attached to cords and on my back (the one way I can not lay due to a back injury) because I am so big and a “massively high risk”, I can’t help but have a “fuck you” attitude.

It is very hard to separate my ego from the situation and really get in touch with what is the most important part of my birth plan. My ego says: “You think you can tell me that I can’t do it because I am fat? You should see the amount I have done in my life while being fat. I am going to stand, pop this kid out, and walk out the door in 15 minutes”. The alter ego says: “You think I can’t do this? You are probably right. This is going to be insanely painful and you should just knock me out, make fun of me when I am under, because lately I have been happy when I am able to push out a crap.” My SELF says: “Just do your best. Fight to have the most natural, cordless/ tubeless, birth possible and make adjustments when needed”.

I love it when my Self makes so much sense.