This post begins a series where I'm forcing myself to understand the
havoc being obese wreaks or could wreak on my life. We all know the
basics of shorter life spans, high risk of heart attacks, etc. But all
of that is potential impacts and generally in the far future (or at
least, farther future) and isn't "real" for me. My obesity has a major
impact in my day-to-day life, and I need to realize the extent of it in
order to truly grasp the importance of this journey. Of all obesity's
chaos in my life, much of it is greatly influenced by the subject of
today's post - depression.
I've struggled with depression for a
significant part of my life. It's not something that I generally talk
about, and really only my partner has any inkling of how tightly it can
grip me and how badly its effects can wrack with my day to day life.
It's impossible, really, to know where depression comes from or why
it's hard to break out of it; part of it could be genetic (my mother
has depressive issues), but I also know that my battles with depression
have always been closely intertwined with my struggle with my weight.
It's
hard for anyone who hasn't experienced depression to understand it;
it's hard to describe it in a way that doesn't make me sound batty. For
a simple explanation, one should understand that I'm a big dreamer and
a consistent performer. I have eyes for big prizes and I've always been
the kind of person that is able to get things done and done well. I
like to stay in control of my life and at least have an idea of where
I'm going even if I don't have any specific goals at the time.
Depression robs me of any motivation, any drive, and really, any hope
of meeting my goals and living my dreams.
Depression, for me, is
an overwhelming capitulation to hopelessness, or an incessant and
nagging maxim of "Why Bother?" It sits me on the couch instead of
cleaning the house. It convinces me to overeat the carbs and sugars and
ice cream because it doesn't really matter - someone as fat as me
cannot possibly be thin and attractive. Depression instructs me to
order Chinese or pizza for the third time or more this week, because
don't you just feel too tired to cook?
My obesity comes into
play whenever I the reality of how fat I really am is made clear to me
- either through looking in the mirror or through some social
awkwardness or intimidation. Self pity and self doubt take root in my
mind, and soon after coalesce into loathing and self-hatred. I hate
myself for who I am, for being a constant failure in the weight loss
game, for robbing my partner of an attractive and enjoyable mate, for
wasting my life and money and time on food, for being so lazy that I
can't even motivate myself to the gym, and so on and so forth.
Being
obese is a direct contributor to my struggle with depression. Worse
still, my obesity feeds my depression and depression's self-loathing
feeds my obesity as I reach for that comforting pint of ice cream or
anything else consumable that might ease the pain my brain inflicts on
itself. This negative feedback loop is eventually broken as I haul ass
back to the gym and convince myself to finally go grocery shopping so I
don't have to order dinner yet one more time. But the impetuses for
breaking out of these depression cycles come harder and harder each
time. Even as I recognize when I'm just in a depression cycle and my
perception of reality is tainted, it's harder every time to ramp up and
get on with the right activity.
I will likely struggle with
depression for the rest of my life. Being thin won't solve all such
problems, but removing such a major contributing factor will certainly
help. Moreover, I'm pretty good at recognizing and understanding my
depressive cycles, and I think the major life win of losing so much
weight will help me break from them more quickly and easily over time.
And scoring such an important win will do much more wonders for my life
than some seratonin-adjusting pill ever could.
posted 3/19/08 @ 08:15pm | 1 comment
tagged:
depression
obesity
This one is a mix of math and emotions. I have a deep-rooted problem of
comforting myself with food. Perhaps its tied to my ongoing battle with
depression, perhaps its something I sort of learned from watching my
mother's similar coping technique. But when I'm depressed, or upset, or
nervous, or generally down or bored, my coping mechanism is to eat.
Yes, this just leads to my being fatter, but there's a practical side
to it as well - it's expensive.
When I don't get groceries, I
order out for us. Pizza or Chinese or whatever. Unhealthy as all get
out, right? Yes - that's what dieters tend to focus on, right? Oh the
calories! But pizza (and/or breadsticks plus sodas and tip) can run $30
or more. Chinese, $20. And then there's lunch. When I'm going out for
lunch every day, I don't control myself well at all. I have this weird
thing that I'm afraid what I'm getting won't be enough, so I get a
little bit more. Say, a sandwich and a soup. or a bigger sandwich and 2
(yes, 2) cookies. Or even worse - in New York it's common to get food
from a buffet and pay by the pound (pounds!). I can easily run up a
lunch bill of $12-17 a day without breaking more of a sweat than the
walk from the office.
The reality strikes home when compared to
"normal" people or even my own experiences. For a while, my partner and
I both ate out for lunch every day. He'd spend maybe $7-8 a day. I'd
spend twice that. $300 a month just for lunch is a lot of money!
Nowadays, I've been taking microwave Weight Watcher meals to work - for
$3 a pop. Or I make my own food from the groceries I order. I'm
suddenly spending a lot less money - money that goes to things I want,
or even rewards I have planned for when I do lose weight.
But
there are greater costs than food. Consider clothing - I have a closet
full of clothes that I can't fit into! Clothes I've spent good money
one. Some I've never actually been able to wear. I've out grown a lot
of them - or rather, grown out of them -- width-wise. As I get fatter,
I have to get more clothes. But clothes are expensive, and getting a
new wardrobe to accommodate my ever increasing waistline is just too
much money to spend. If I'm going to be spending money on clothes, I
want it to be because my wardrobe is too big. And at least if I lose some weight, I'll be able to save money by wearing all those clothes I haven't been able to in ages.
If
I keep going as I have been - getting fatter and fatter - ultimately
it's really going to hit my wallet. Airlines - and even some movie theaters - have been toying with the concept of making obese people pay
for two seats, because we're essentially taking up that much space.
That's frightening, and really expensive. $650 or more for a domestic
ticket, just because I'm really fat? The math doesn't add up!
Being
Obese robbed my wallet; and being such a miser anyway, I'm somewhat
shocked that I didn't go on a real diet just for the cost savings! I
wonder if there's a diet+financial planning business in there
somewhere?
posted 4/12/08 @ 05:06pm | 1 comment
tagged:
Weight Watchers
obesity
clothing
cost
Deep down, I know I don't look good. For all my partner's protestations
at this, by otherwise unbiased judgments, I'm no looker. For years I
was told "you have a cute face," with an implied "at least." I accept
that.
The thing is, when you're already resigned to the fact
that society at large, including friends, family, colleagues and random
people you meet that shy away from you for it, there's little more you
want to do. You can put lipstick on a pig, after all, but its still a
pig. So why bother?
Being obese makes me fatter and uglier.
For one, there's little motivation to do anything else but sit on the
couch and eat whatever I can find. I know I don't stand up to any
standard of beauty, so I don't feel any reason to try. And that lack of
motivation pervades much of centers of self worth. I don't want to
cook, so I order take out. I don't want to clean my apartment because I
don't want anyone to come over and see me as I am. I don't want to go
to the gym. I don't want to go out at night or on the weekends. All I
want to do is sit and eat and play on the computer, looking at pictures
of thin people - wishing I could that way. All I end up doing is
eating, sitting, and wasting my life.
Moreover, when I'm
already socially unacceptable, I'm prone to letting other aspects of my
personal care go. Like clean clothes or good hygiene habits. Laziness
pervades my life, and as a result, a downward spiral is triggered and I
just get worse.
Of course certain habits can be formed to
break the cycle, and that's part of what I'm doing. But left to my own
devices, my obesity robs me of the self-worth that prevents the cycle
of eating and lack of self-care. And I get fatter, and uglier, until
that cycle breaks.
posted 4/13/08 @ 09:16am | 0 comments
tagged:
laziness
downward spiral
I love to travel. I love to be in Europe, sitting on a random plaza in
Amsterdam sipping espresso (espresso, i swear!), or exploring ancient
history in Bath (England), or just relaxing on a green hillside along
the banks of Lake Zurichsee - I love to travel. A major reason for
taking my last job was that HQ was in Frankfurt, and off to Europe I'd
go a couple times a year. I've been to Romania and Hungary three times,
Cameroon, and eventually I'll live in England (lost count as to how
many times I've been there already). Even within the US I love business
trips just for the sake of going places. I've driven cross-country
through the desert more times than I can remember.
I love to travel. I love to get on a plane and go places. But being obese does rob me of some of that joy.
Take
the airplane, for example. Airplane seats are notoriously narrow.
Flying Delta is downright painful. And even if I do get my giant ass
wedged in between the armrests, there's the matter of the seat belt.
Older planes were clearly designed before the age of American obesity -
where the seat belts are a good 6-10 inches shorter than more modern
planes. Virgin Atlantic I thought I would pop trying to strap myself
in. Even my favorite airline Continental has older planes with this
problem. Thank God I've yet to be in a situation where I have to ask
for a seatbelt extender. I promised myself I never would - and that
means losing weight.
But even apart from the plane, traveling
while obese is not easy. For several years I essentially backpacked
through Europe leading a group of 20-30 teenagers and young adults. I
made it (I was a lighter then than I am now), but I wow did I sweat in
the dead of European summer. I've loved to walk all over London or
Amsterdam, but my ankles can only support my weight for so long before
its time for a break. And that's not even considering chub rub -
walking and sweating and chafing can really limit one's enjoyment of
the essential European walking tour.
There's other practical
limitations, too. Being obese means my clothes are bigger and take up
more room, no matter how many compression tricks I use. Being obese and
sweating more means I need even more clothes just to stay fresh. So I
have to have more clothes that take up more room, which is more to
schlep, which just tires me out more. Thus obesity's endless downward
spiral strikes again.
Moreover, knowing the difficulties and
limiting realities of obesity and travel, I limit the kinds of
vacations I want to take. My partner is craving a trip to Disney World.
I would love to oblige him, but five days of walking in the Orlando sun
frightens me. Having to squeeze into a roller coaster car or sit at the
pool paralyzes me with anticipated embarrassment. He also wants to go
on a cruise (and specifically, probably a gay cruise). But I can't even
stomach that idea - and I've been on a cruise (and was halfway miserable the whole time - just because I couldn't fully enjoy it comfortably).
I
love to travel; I love being places and experiencing things - even as
simple as going to Central Park and laying in the sun or walking about.
Such things are robbed of their joy by my being obese - and I hate
that. Unlike other things where all my problems would not be fixed just
by being thin, in this case travel would instantly be simpler and more
enjoyable just by losing pounds. And my partner would love to finally
go to Disney World.
posted 4/14/08 @ 10:18am | 1 comment
tagged:
downward spiral
travel
cruise
flying
"Being overweight can damage your career."
This Reuters article explains the results of a study that shows the
stereotypes surrounding obese people are alive and well in the
workplace.
The researchers found the results of all the
studies examined were consistent in finding that people who are
overweight are viewed more negatively in the workplace than those who
are of average weight.
The bias was felt most when overweight
people applied for a job and went through the initial selection process
with body weight found to be less of a factor at the performance
evaluation stage, and with stereotypes having a minimum influence when
it comes to promotions.
"Some of the basic stereotypes
associated with being overweight include laziness, sloppiness,
untidiness and lack of self-discipline and control," he said.
I've
built a pretty good career as a web professional; I don't know of an
instance where my obesity prevented me from getting a job I wanted. But
after the hiring, I have felt its impact.
I've regularly had to
work with sales people - who are extraordinarily judgmental people and
very image conscious. You know when you're being judged or sidelined
for some reason or another, even if you can't prove it. I've been
there. I also regularly have to interface with clients - and that has
been impacted by obesity as well. My last boss
told me she felt she couldn't as easily send me on client calls because of the way I looked. In my new job, I sense the occasional stare or askance look.
My
reputation is important to me; the work I do is always high caliber and
speaks for itself. Eventually, everywhere I've been my results
generally prop me up as a well-regarded and respected colleague, but
it's an uphill battle from day one. People
do
regard obese people suspiciously and/or dubiously. Do we work as hard
or are we lazy? Can we behave ourselves in a catered meeting? We tend
to look more slobbish in our haphazardly-fitting and
fashion-unconscious clothes when compared to thin, pretty buttoned-up
salesman we're on a call with. It's harder for those of us who aren't
naturally jolly to make up for it.
This is an image thing, plain
and simple. And one could hem and haw as much as they like about the
worth of image-only opinion. But like many of the issues faced by
obesity, this one hits me. If my obesity is impacting my career and
limiting it in any way, then that needs to change. I'm just at the
beginning of my working life and I have a long way to go and a lot of
ladders to climb; I'd rather not have to lug the extra baggage of my
obesity - figuratively as well as literally.
posted 4/15/08 @ 11:20am | 7 comments
tagged:
obesity
career
Over the years, life as an obese man has robbed me of my confidence. And with that loss went the faith in myself to speak up.
In
my mind I am opinionated. Things come together in my min and make sense
in ways many others wouldn't necessarily see. I have beliefs and world
views that I feel are valid and worth discussing. But I rarely speak up
with my opinion, or point of view, or even at all. If someone does
something stupid on the subway, or somehow affronts or offends me, I
generally let it slide and don't speak up, not even if I'd be entirely
right in doing so, even if standing up for someone else.
This
isn't because I'm just a nice guy that doesn't rock the boat - I have
no problem rocking boats on principle. No, speaking up would bring
attention to me; and attention is something difficult to abide when you
don't feel worth being paid attention to; when all your life you've
been told that you're an aberration and not normal because you're
obese.
And so to avoid drawing attention to myself and all
that is wrong with me, I stay quiet. And all that I feel I can bring
with my words is stifled.
posted 4/16/08 @ 08:21am | 0 comments
tagged:
self-confidence
This is a tough one to quantify - because few people will ever admit
it. But ask any obese person walking down the street and they'll be
able to tell you that people don't like to be around, make friends
with, or generally associate with fatties.
I've never had a
lot of friends. In grade school and high school it was very much
because I was fat. Things are a lot clearer when you're younger because
your fellow children are brutally more honest. They tell you
they don't like you because you're fat. In another way of looking at
it, though, my being fat drove me into the back corner and generally
contributed to my being introverted, which ultimately leads to not
having a lot of friends since people can't get to know you.
As
an adult in New York City, much is the same. The people aren't as
brutally honest, but the realities of living obese in an
image-conscious city are still very much alive. I wouldn't have the
friends I have if weren't for my adorable, cute, and gregarious
boyfriend. I am generally his third wheel; and while we have a few good
friends that I feel like legitimately enjoy me and spending time with
me and us both, I don't think I would if it weren't for my beau.
There
are real cases - some of which happened as recently as a couple weeks
ago - where I was simply the odd man out in a group of thin, healthy
people. As introductions are made, I'm skipped or ignored. I tag along,
but am not generally included in conversation. Am I outgoing, bubbly,
and talkative? No - not my personality after years of being obese and
sidelined. But at the same time, I'm not a complete wallflower. I'm
just ignored.
The thought that this could be true angers my
partner, but he doesn't understand the life of an obese person or how
the world looks at us. The reality that I try to make clear to him is
that when I finally get further along in this journey, some of our
friends - even our closest ones - will respond to me very differently.
In 25, 50, 100 pounds, they will seem to "like" me more. Others we know
might actually want to talk to me. It's sad, but true, that many people
can't get past the exterior to see what kind people we really are, but
that's the reality.
My reality is that I'm friend-poor because I'm obese. And I want that to change.
posted 4/17/08 @ 07:22am | 0 comments
tagged:
friends
New York City
In my last post I talked about how being obese limits my friendships. A similar point is that being obese is lonely.
Search
the web for others who are on their weight loss journey and willing to
talk about it and you'll come up with few websites. You'll find fewer
still those who have consistently stuck with their commitments to lose
weight. Now try narrowing that to obese or overweight men who are
actually trying hard to lose weight and willing to talk about it. Now try narrowing that to gay men. There just aren't very many of us.
I've
found a few communities like Spark People that are very encouraging in
that regard. My own broken horse syndrome stopped me from returning
recently, and now I feel funny about returning just because I feel like
a failure. But the reality is that being obese - and losing weight - is
a very solitary experience.
None of the friends I've ever
had are/were obese - and none of them ever have been. They don't
understand it. They can't really relate to the very real struggles I've
blogged about in this Being Obese series. Life as an obese person is
lonely. So is the journey of losing weight.
I don't talk about
my journey with anyone. I don't have that support structure to keep me
going. No one knows about this blog. I'm too ashamed. That progress
meter on this blog doesn't move very much - and I don't really want
people knowing I actually am over 300 pounds - and stuck there. Not
even my partner knows the sordid details. It would be nice to have the
courage to ask for real support and partners along the journey, but
such support would only go so far.
In a real way, this journey
of weight loss must be taken alone. My partner can't lose my weight for
me - neither can friends. They're gentle reminders and prodding and
attempts at accountability just feel like nagging if I haven't
internalized the need to get my ass in gear. Some day, when the results
are evident, I will be able to share the reality of my journey, ask for
support and maybe even have a gym partner or two. Until then, I'm the
lonely pilgrim walking my journey, and carrying my load, by myself.
posted 4/18/08 @ 07:23am | 1 comment
tagged:
My partner and I are very much in love - and more so every day. He is
my world, my reason for waking up in the morning, my motivation for
working hard and occasionally hardly working. Any shred of time I get
to spend with him I try to take. And the idea that my being obese could
put that all at risk is sobering, downright frightening, and hurts more
than any of the other obesity realities I've blogged about thus far.
Now,
I know that he is not going to leave me me because I'm fat (though that has happened in the past). But being obese has a real impact on our
relationship - and what few problems we do have on occasion can be
traced in part to the effects obesity has on me. The reality is that in
my present state of physical being, I can't do or be everything that I
should be for my partner.
My partner is a very active guy.
He's perpetually 125 pounds, has the metabolism of a jackrabbit, and
loves to walk everywhere, go out all the time, and just stay active,
active active! My inclination, however, is nearly the exact opposite. I
plan short routes, shy away from bursting-full weekends, and am
generally lazy. Whether its because it gets physically uncomfortable,
or if it results from my depression, or if its from the shame I feel,
my attitude frustrates my beau. The scary part is that if such trends
would continue, he would eventually get bored and frustrated, we spend
less time together as he goes out and I don't, and eventually, I lose
him to the wind.
Neither of us are going to let it get there,
however, and we're very good at keeping our lines of communication
open. When he's frustrated, he brings it up. And we talk about it. Or
we try to. The reasons I don't like to go out or walk as much as he
does is because I'm obese (and everything that stems from it) and an
aspect of my guilt / depression / shame is that I don't really like to
talk about it. So I don't know what to say, I tend to be quiet while
trying to think things through, and that just frustrates him more. But
we get through these times. Our relationship is not really at risk -
but the fact that I'm not - and maybe cannot be - everything he needs
right now, is humbling.
Being obese affects other aspects too,
like our sex life. I'm not going to get into specifics here but it
should be mentioned - the mechanics of sex are more difficult when
you've got 150+ lbs of fat in the way. My stamina is below average. I'm
not as flexible. I'm not comfortable being naked and I sure as hell am
not attractive in bed by any stretch of the imagination.
Last
but not least - at the rate I'm going I will die significantly sooner
than my partner. My risk for heart attack or stroke are astronomical.
And as the primary bread winner for us both, my death would not only be
devastating emotionally and change his life and love forever, but the
practicalities of his life would change too. I want to live a long life
with him, retire with him, travel the world when we're 102 and be one
of those cute old gay couples you see at Pride parades (only with more
clothes on, please!). If I die early because I'm obese and didn't do
anything about it, well that's just going to piss me off for eternity.
Of
all the things that obesity does to my life, this one carries the
greatest weight. Ultimately, this is the impact that drives me back to
the gym. This is the real reason I'm fighting myself to lose weight.
And this is where I will reap the greatest reward when I finally make
it through this journey.
posted 4/19/08 @ 09:00am | 3 comments
tagged:
relationship
love
sex
heart attack
stroke
