I get it. I’m fat.

There are several things I expect will come out of my mother’s mouth when she’s staying with me here at my place. One, she will most certainly tell me that cleanliness of the home leads to better management of my illness. And two, she will make sure to tell me that I need to lose weight. Mom brought up how my place needed to be cleaned better within a day of her staying, but for some reason, my weight wasn’t the first thing she commented on when she saw me. After a day or two without any mention of my figure, I almost, almost wondered if she’s decided to stop making those remarks. Then, it came. She said ever so bluntly, “You’re too fat.”

I know she means well, and that she says it for my own well being. It is very true that in order to avoid illnesses like metabolic syndrome or diabetes, I need to trim down a bit. But really, shouldn’t I have realized this truth by now, and don’t necessarily need someone else to point it out, repeatedly? Part of me does agree that I need to be nudged to get into some sort of a routine to shed some pounds, but I think it’s almost odd (or perhaps inappropriate) to say to me that I haven’t been listening to what I’ve been told to do, as if I’m five years old.

Yes, I’ve gained 20 pounds in the last two years, and there are a lot of clothes in my closet that needs me to go back to my old weight so that I can wear them again. I could burst out in tears over getting told over and over again how fat I am, but at this point, all I can say to my mother right now is “thanks for your concern.”

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One Comment to “I get it. I’m fat.”

  1. Tell me about it! My mum has trouble understanding that I have a mental illness, so explaining to her that my medications are associated with weight gain is completely a waste of time. Comments like, “if you lost some weight you’d be more attractive” or “A woman like you needs to lose at least 20 kg to find a man”. You know what Mum, I just want to get through the next 24 hours, who cares if I am attractive to men or not!

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