Joel Lington

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... went to the doctor today, had to see a different doctor than my regular one because she's on leave this year. I was there for my yearly checkup. This new doctor focused heavily on my weight, talked about the health risk correlations of high body weight (absolutely nothing new), weighed me and told me in very serious tones that I'm obese, and that they can give me medications or treatment or refer me to a clinic. She brought this up with no other data about me than my bmi and my blood pressure (normal and unchanged from last year, even despite me having very high anxiety during the measuring). Her overall demeanor was what I would call stern and haughty, although my mental state probably affects this impression. I felt overwhelmed and shameful, struggled to talk, only managed to communicate that I don't have any health issues that I'm aware of, nothing that ails me, and that unless there's a case for medical intervention beyond just my size I'm not interested in weight loss treatment. I had a major panic attack in my car afterwards, cried for almost an hour, eventually took a very light sedative and managed to sleep some. It's hard to express just how much of an effect this stuff has. And I've heard of much worse doctor's office experiences. This lady was never deeply unprofessional, she checked in with me and honored my request not to tell me what I weigh (numbers like that tend to trigger compulsive behavior for me). I'm sure she thought herself helpful and even friendly, even if she was clearly not the gentle soft-spoken type. I have health anxiety, and so it costs a lot mentally to even go to the doctor. I work hard constantly to deal with the fear of things going wrong in my body and life turning upside-down. By all means - if my tests show anything concerning that warrants treatment, lifestyle changes, etc, of course I will do what I need to do to take care of myself! The reason I get checkups every year is precisely to stay on top of my health markers and make adjustments if necessary! But she speedran all of that and decided it was best I start worrying right away. For the past hours I've been struggling hard with thoughts of self-harm, and stimming intensely. I feel a desperate desire to be acceptable. I crave the nods of approval given to fat people who pursue weight loss. I crave the safety and security I imagine thin people feel. I picture going to the doctor as a thin woman, getting diagnosed with something and being met with compassion. Sick because I'm unfortunate, like all people can be. Not because I'm fat and any ailment is an extension of my wretched fat soul, a curse I brought upon myself. Isn't that messed up? I feel like I'd be safer, better off, in a sick thin body than in a healthy fat one. And a lot of people think that's actually how it works. I don't, but that's how it feels right now. I'd be absolved. I'd be righteous. I feel less-than, useless, unworthy of love, unworthy of joy, unworthy of food, unworthy of life. Every shitty emotion I try to use this blog to lessen in other fat people. Maybe I shouldn't post this then, but I really needed to write it out, and possibly connect with others who know what it's like. It's a bad day. Maybe tomorrow will be better. If you're feeling like shit: I love you.

LIKING FAT PEOPLE IS NOT A MORAL FAILURE

What are you doing with that funnel?

(One of my fave ways to describe feedism lol)

he is extremely pleased that he has gained weight (because it means he has gotten bigger, which is one of his life goals)

Having such a great time museums and hugs @faloverbabe 🙌🏼