Morbid Obesity: How to Overcome Denial

In my late 30s I began to have a vague understanding that I was morbidly obese. I would be there when I would try on pants that no longer fit, or a shirt that would suddenly tug at my bra in an unsightly way. It would have this argument: My God, look how fat you are, now you don’t even wear your size 18, 20, 22, 24. You really are getting fat. Then the justifications would come: stop being so hard on yourself, you need to love yourself as you are, society is fat-phobic, you are simply a very strong woman.

After all, admitting that I had expanded beyond another wardrobe just wasn’t going to happen. Anyone who has ever been obese knows the shame and humility we feel at our lack of self-discipline and willpower. So, to prove to myself that I was just a big, strong woman, with immense willpower, I would go on a diet, exercising furiously, ignoring the pain from my bruised knees while running, or the hunger pangs as I killed myself. from hunger. . I’m not fat, I told myself, just out of shape. You already know the result: a sudden weight loss, a redemption in my own eyes, and a return to old habits. The weight would rise again, and something else.

Only when I truly recognized that I was obese, morbidly obese, and had done it to myself, did I even come close to being able to change. I had to go beyond denial to accept the reality of my condition. No more blaming it on genetic factors, because genes didn’t put a bag full of cookies in my mouth. I couldn’t justify it being an unhappy childhood, because parental disapproval of 30 years ago didn’t make me eat a whole gallon of ice cream in one sitting. He couldn’t blame it on money, career success, or lack of romantic problems; I had to deal with denial to change my life.

Losing weight is a challenge for everyone. Being obese just meant that I had more to lose, that I had put myself further away from my desired goal, than someone else. I suspect that if I had continued to deny the reality of my obesity, I would be another 50 pounds HIGHER than on the August day of my 40th birthday. That day when I got on the doctor’s scale and emotionally passed out because the slide had to adjust to a number higher than 290. Actually, I don’t know what weight I started with … I know I was over 290 and under 300. I just knew that denial had the potential to kill me and I had to get my life back.

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