I love cheesecake but that’s not why I am fat.
My name is Shy and I am sick. I am not sick in a way that you can see it. OR rather, I really am. Today I went into a doctor and told him that I was ill. I explained my nine year illness and he looked at me like I was stupid. Being young and fresh into the world of adult hood, it was hard to keep my illness in check. It was expensive to drive to the specialist, and my insurance wouldn’t cover my $300 visits. Today I was treated like an idiot. I was treated like a lazy, lying, idiot. My doctor scolded me for not going to the doctor sooner, then scolded me for seeing him without the proper insurance. Then he said that I was lying about my eating habits. Because I have had this illness I have discovered the truth about being sick. No one really listens. I held myself together until I got out to the car. I cried, and sobbed. I blamed my body, and for the first time I wished that I had never had this disease. I usually look at bad things as obstacles that God has placed in front of me to overcome. Today, I wanted nothing more than to come home, find a carving knife and carve out the diseased, broken, disgusting thyroid gland out of my body that has made me struggle so much. Sadly, being sick doesn’t stop at being sick. This disease has metaphorically poisoned me,it spreads like mold through my insides and rots out my happiness. People don’t seem to understand, and there are days that I wish I could leave the house in a giant t-shirt that spells it out. My disease has caused depression, something that I didn’t want to believe in. When everything is fine, I am sitting in a corner crying, wishing that everything would go dark. I wish that I could have a week in an unbroken body, it would be like a beautiful vacation. But I know that that is not reality. I have gained weight, on top of more weight, on top of more weight. I have been prodded by people. People have hurt me, made backhanded compliments. When I try to make correlations of healthy living with anyone, they look at me like I am an ignorant idiot. Not understanding the exhaustion I go through. They don’t understand that it takes all of me to do simple tasks, and lately, its taken a lot to even talk. I sat in the doctor’s office today dreading that I would have to explain everything I was going through to a doctor that ultimately didn’t want to listen. At home it takes a lot to talk to the people I love. I dread interaction because interacting is so difficult to do. It is difficult to think. When I am not happy, I do things alone, I don’t talk, I go into a type of hiding. After the doctor’s appointment today I didn’t even want to talk to my fiance about the pain I was feeling. He asked me if I wanted to vent and I shook my head no. He told me it would be okay. I would feel better soon. I told him that that didn’t work. With this disease there was no “Ill feel better later” because later I will still have to have the blood tests, I will still have to drive an hour to see a doctor. I will still have to be on hold, waiting for someone to tell me what pills I have to take and what amount. I will have to wait through weeks of pain before I can see a doctor, then I will have to go through more time to have them diagnose my problems. But what is worse, is that sometimes the pills won’t help. Sometimes I will feel terrible and nothing can be done because the levels in my blood doesn’t match up to my pain. It won’t get better soon. This post isn’t to make people feel bad for me. But a challenge to people to keep their mouths shut and their eyes to themselves if they have nothing nice to say, or if they can’t handle lazy not being the only thing that causes fat. Many people look at me as a lazy, selfish, self pitying fat girl. That is the way that the doctor treated me today, that is the way that many people treat me, people I know and people off the street. I made a correlation today between me and a Dexter’s lab episode. You 90’s kids might remember the episode where he dyes his hair blonde for a day and everyone treats him better. Everyone steps aside and acts courteously, people give him a free pass, because he must be a fun loving blonde who has a sunny view on everything, because he is blonde. (If you don’t know the episode it is on Netflix). I feel that being skinny is very similar to being blonde in this episode. I remember when I was thinner and my hair was fuller and I had more energy because my disease was under better control, I was a teenager and my Aunt drove me to my appointments for my specialist and I was on her insurance and I didn’t have to eat crappy food that I could afford. I was treated very differently, people complimented me, I would talk to people about working out and they wouldn’t look at me like I was crazy. People generally looked at me more like a human being, people were nice. Now I feel like a monster that crawled out from under someone’s bed on some days. The only place I feel wanted and welcome is a plus size store in the mall. I went through JC pennies looking for a size 16 pair of jeans and felt miserable because none in my size were stylish, or barely my age, same thing even in the plus size department in forever 21. I finally found my happy in a pair of 55 freaking dollar jeans in Torrid, (Happy? yes. Broke? even more so.) But walking through the mall I got stares unless i was walking around with John. I got the “You know that won’t fit you right?” or the “That won’t look good on a fatgirl” look from a few chicks wandering isles. I smiled at them and ignored their stupidity. But sometimes I just want to slap the ignorance out of them. And sometimes, I want to wear a t-shirt telling them that the past 40 pounds I have gained, has been because of a stupid thyroid disease that I didn’t bring upon myself. It would be different if say, all I do is sit at home and eat Twinkies all day. I won’t lie, I don’t starve myself, I eat when I am hungry. And I have to admit I could be doing more physical activity, I don’t do much since I have been getting headaches, and since exhaustion has set in. But I was going to the gym, and during the time that I was going to the gym, I gained weight, even though I was also eating less. Anyways… I have to put it out there that looks are the representation of things, but you cant put cause with effect if you don’t understand all of the causes. I am not lazy, I am exhausted, I am not fat because I love food so much that I can’t keep myself from eating, I am fat because of a disease, a disease that makes loosing weight damn near impossible. Don’t look at me and judge me, when you know nothing about me. For that matter, don’t judge anyone. Unless you are in their shoes or in their body,YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND. And another thing, I don’t hate my fat body. I hate the way that people look at my fat body. I hate the way that people treat me like all I am is a FAT BODY. I AM A HUMAN FUCKING BEING, TRY TREATING ME LIKE ONE! Thanks and sorry for the language but sheesh…. Stupid people….