My body doesn’t fit

I just got back from a health appointment where yet again I was told that my body size is a problem. I am too big. I weigh too much. It’s destroying the parts of my body that are supposed to support my weight. I am too much for my poor feet, ankles and knees.

I have started taking note of the instances where my body is too big to fit. I have started to consciously avoid chairs with armrests because either I won’t fit, or I squeeze myself in only to find that the armrests squish and bruise my hips. A couple of weeks ago I went to the Stedelijk Museum in Amsterdam and happened upon an exhibit where you are given waterproof boots to go in because there is a huge pool of water to walk through. Before I had the chance to realise what was happening I was telling the lady my shoe size, and changing out of my normal shoes. I knew that the welly boots wouldn’t fit my enormous calves (they didn’t), but I didn’t know what else to do so I shoved my feet in with the boots crumpled around my ankles and went into the exhibition anyway. I wondered whether anyone else noticed. I wondered whether I should have just told the woman that the boots didn’t fit and walked away, but I didn’t want the embarrassment of having to address my fat with someone so publically. I ended up feeling embarrassed and wishing I hadn’t gone into that exhibit at all. Maybe they could have a warning on the outside: “caution, your body must fit”.

One of the worst things I have experienced recently was travelling by aeroplane. I went to Athens for an art residency last year, and the only realistic way to get there was by plane. I usually avoid travelling by air because of climate change, but made an exception this time. Oh my goodness it was horrendous. I didn’t even have enough space for my legs to fit despite taking an aisle seat. I am not particularly tall, but the extra fat around my bum probably made it harder to fit the length of my thighs between the back of my seat and the seat in front of me. I had to jam my knee against the back of the seat in front of me and by the time we got to Athens I had enormous bruises. On the way back, I upgraded to the business class seats because I could not do that to my body again. Now I am left with a fear of travelling anywhere at all, knowing that there is a big risk that I won’t fit.

What do these experiences do to my psyche? I am constantly told that I’m too big, too much, that I don’t belong. I’m made to feel like an ogre. What can you do when you’re constantly told that you’re too big? Either you try really hard to make yourself smaller, or you block out and deny the reality of your body and disconnect from it. I have spent my whole life in a battle with my own body, trying desperately to shrink myself, and failing miserably. This is the pain of binge eating disorder; the rollercoaster of restriction and bingeing. The therapists I worked with in my ED recovery told me that I had to stop trying to lose weight in order to overcome the eating disorder. But society is constantly telling me that I need to. It’s maddening.

So when losing weight doesn’t seem to be possible, what is the alternative? Dissociation and denial of the body. That’s where I am, and that’s what this project is trying to address. How can I be more engaged with my body in a way that isn’t trying to shrink it?

Photo by Tim De Pauw on Unsplash