Weight loss surgery is controversial. This isn't news. But what you may not realize is that it's not just controversial among thin or 'normal' people, but in the fat community as well.
Whenever I visit any sort of 'fat acceptance' website, I'm always startled by the attitude toward GB and surgeries like it (WLS, in short form). Today, I came across this interesting article on being a 'Smaller Fat' – the strange limbo that those of us who are BMI-defined as obese but who look 'normal' enough to pass – and I was all set to write a post about the main article. But then I read the comments.
One commenter talked about the strong support system she had at her workplace in the medical profession, where people understand that BMI isn't everything and fat people should be understood instead of tormented. Lovely, right? But then, in a parenthetical aside, she mentions that one of her supporters is a doctor who "had to autopsy a bunch of WLS victims" once, and therefore (it is assumed) is on the side of understanding fat rather than attempting to fight it.
The one that really got me, though, was the last sentence of a long and interesting comment on what the numbers really mean and how judged people feel as a result of their weight/BMI. The commenter made multiple valid points about the media and the overdramatization of the fat 'epidemic', and then she ended with this: "WLS - Sorry, not my preferred way of dying. *glares at doctor recommending it*"
It's kind of weird for me to read stuff like that. When I was considering the surgery, I never once considered that I might be betraying the fat community. I guess I never really felt like part of that community, to be fair, but somehow I still feel like they view me as a traitor.
After surgery, though, I find myself isolated twice: not just hovering in limbo between 'normal' and 'obese', but also feeling like I'm neither an accepted part of the thin world nor welcomed in the fat world.
I think that's a little bit ridiculous. Surely I feel a lot of the same injustices and anxieties as people in both camps. Women (and men) all over the world have issues with their bodies, and whether they resort to WLS, or go on the cabbage soup diet for a month, or just spend tons of time and energy and money on their appearance, I'd be willing to bet that nearly all of those people who weren't born with natural confidence have tried something to make them feel like they belong in their bodies.
The vilification of WLS in the fat community is counter-intuitive, to me. I get that they don't want to be pressured into it, but does that mean that everybody who has it is inherently weak or stupid? Willing to risk our lives for a chance at what we thought might be normalcy? It seems unnecessarily stubborn to me to refuse an opportunity to change what you can't accept about yourself, if only so that you can self-righteously fly the flag of self-acceptance in the face of those who took that chance.
I don't know. I'm not sure how to structure my thoughts on this issue, but I do sense another chapter forming in my mind. I'm not sure I can send my manuscript out without any comment on this strange limbo that some of us occupy. But if I can't even formulate a blog post coherently because I'm so mixed up, how on earth am I going to get a cohesive, 4000-word chapter out of it?
Whenever I visit any sort of 'fat acceptance' website, I'm always startled by the attitude toward GB and surgeries like it (WLS, in short form). Today, I came across this interesting article on being a 'Smaller Fat' – the strange limbo that those of us who are BMI-defined as obese but who look 'normal' enough to pass – and I was all set to write a post about the main article. But then I read the comments.
One commenter talked about the strong support system she had at her workplace in the medical profession, where people understand that BMI isn't everything and fat people should be understood instead of tormented. Lovely, right? But then, in a parenthetical aside, she mentions that one of her supporters is a doctor who "had to autopsy a bunch of WLS victims" once, and therefore (it is assumed) is on the side of understanding fat rather than attempting to fight it.
The one that really got me, though, was the last sentence of a long and interesting comment on what the numbers really mean and how judged people feel as a result of their weight/BMI. The commenter made multiple valid points about the media and the overdramatization of the fat 'epidemic', and then she ended with this: "WLS - Sorry, not my preferred way of dying. *glares at doctor recommending it*"
It's kind of weird for me to read stuff like that. When I was considering the surgery, I never once considered that I might be betraying the fat community. I guess I never really felt like part of that community, to be fair, but somehow I still feel like they view me as a traitor.
After surgery, though, I find myself isolated twice: not just hovering in limbo between 'normal' and 'obese', but also feeling like I'm neither an accepted part of the thin world nor welcomed in the fat world.
I think that's a little bit ridiculous. Surely I feel a lot of the same injustices and anxieties as people in both camps. Women (and men) all over the world have issues with their bodies, and whether they resort to WLS, or go on the cabbage soup diet for a month, or just spend tons of time and energy and money on their appearance, I'd be willing to bet that nearly all of those people who weren't born with natural confidence have tried something to make them feel like they belong in their bodies.
The vilification of WLS in the fat community is counter-intuitive, to me. I get that they don't want to be pressured into it, but does that mean that everybody who has it is inherently weak or stupid? Willing to risk our lives for a chance at what we thought might be normalcy? It seems unnecessarily stubborn to me to refuse an opportunity to change what you can't accept about yourself, if only so that you can self-righteously fly the flag of self-acceptance in the face of those who took that chance.
I don't know. I'm not sure how to structure my thoughts on this issue, but I do sense another chapter forming in my mind. I'm not sure I can send my manuscript out without any comment on this strange limbo that some of us occupy. But if I can't even formulate a blog post coherently because I'm so mixed up, how on earth am I going to get a cohesive, 4000-word chapter out of it?
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