I Am Obese

I never had a weight problem (IMO) until my doctor told me that I did. Actually what he said was, "you've weighed the same amount for 5 years..." I smiled in an appreciative way, about to say "thank you", thinking I had done well and he was congratulating me when he continued, "...we need to do something about that." I was speechless; this came out of nowhere. Maybe I was a little overweight, maybe even 20 pounds overweight, but at my age, having been through everything that I had been through with a terminally ill husband, becoming an empty nester, and just a generally stressful life, to have maintained the same weight through all of that was pretty darn good. I meekly said, "thank you" out of habit, and walked out.
When I got my paperwork from the receptionist, I saw that WORD; that horrible, degrading word that stigmatizes a person and ruins their self-image, and it was there, on the front page of my paperwork, "OBESE".
That was 2011. Since that time I've gained twenty+ more pounds. Since that day, I have obsessed about every piece of food I've put in my mouth. I used to have panic attacks at the grocery store, but after this, I didn't feel like I could even get myself to go to one, so I went to the smallest store I could so if I did have an attack, I could get out quickly.

I've subscribed to numerous apps; I got a Fitbit. I have an app that will give me recipes based on what type of diet I'm on at the time...so far I've tried gluten-free, fodmap, and paleo. I've tried self-hypnosis, guided meditation, fasting. I've spent at least $100 on supplements. I've alternated watching my intake of carbs, water, sodium, fat, sugar. I've tried eating clean. I've tried to accept myself as I am. I've tried not caring, but that only lasts for about a week before I start feeling guilty for not tracking my intake and for not withholding carbs, and especially for eating "comfort food."
Every six months I have to go to the doctor and for the month leading up to the appointment I go into overdrive obsessing about losing weight before my appointment, sometimes postponing the appointment until I can show some weight loss.
Finally, I just lost it and went off on my doctor (via email - I wasn't confident enough to do it in person) telling him what I go through before each appointment. I told him what I ate and what the totals were for each week (protein, carbs, fats, etc.) and the equivalent number of points on weight watchers. I told him I couldn't do it anymore; I give up. Sign me up for some sort of operation or something. There must be something seriously wrong with me that after doing all of this, I can't lose any weight. I wrote to him about different tests I wanted run and asked him questions about various procedures. Surely there was a pill for this. It took 3 separate emails to get everything said that was weighing (no pun intended) on me because the medical portal limited the number of characters allowed per message.
When my appointment came, I felt like all of the nurses and staff knew about those emails and was positive that I was a shoe-in for the "craziest patient" category. My nurse asked me if I was feeling okay before she had me get on the scale.
The doctor came in and calmly discussed each item from my emails. He said that given my age, height, sedentary occupation, and being menopausal (the great excuse for just about everything) that it was going to be very difficult to lose weight and that as long as I was eating healthy, and trying to be more active, that that's all that really mattered. Really???!!! I don't think that was the message he tried to convey in 2011. I feel like all of the doctors went to a seminar and were told to start making their patients feel bad about their weight, and he had succeeded.
I so wished I had corrected him in 2011; what if I had told him that having maintained that weight for all those years was a success and not a failure? If I had torn up that paperwork that called me obese instead of sitting in my car staring at it? I wonder if I would have gained another twenty pounds. I wonder if I would have had a healthy attitude toward food, and thus been able to focus my attention on just living and being.
He did me no favors in talking about my weight. Maybe I've taken this to the extreme, but I can't help it. I'm so sick of thinking about food. None of it is good for us; even "clean" food is unhealthy if it comes from an industrialized farm where they use genetically modified seeds and poisonous products to kill the bugs and the weeds.
Just out of curiosity, I looked up how much I would have to lose to be "normal". All I can say is, if that's normal, then give me some crazy.

Doctors base the obese label on a person's BMI (Body Mass Index).
According to the CDC, a BMI that is
less than 18.5 is underweight
18.5 to < 25 is normal
25.0 to < 30 is overweight
30.0 or higher is obese 

So, when my doctor categorized me as obese, my BMI was 30. As Maxwell Smart would say, "I missed it by that much." After my "diagnosis" I peaked out with a BMI of 35. (Chemo helped raise that, too). Now that I've successfully lowered it to 34, and knowing what a struggle it was to do that, I did the math anyway. I would have to lose 22 more pounds just to eek into the "overweight" category and then another 24 pounds to finally be "normal" again. Apparently, I was normal in college but have been overweight ever since.
The world needs a new normal.