Mermaids Vs. whales

 I’m visiting my hometown this January, and it’ll be summer there. Summer in Mar del Plata, Argentina, only means one thing: the beach. It’s a time to get a tan and swim by the ocean (While a friend guards your property, of course. It’s Argentina). Sounds fantastic, right?

I wasn’t a big fan of the beach when I lived there, I admit. But now I live in a land of constant darkness and rain, a country where summer lasts a week, and the weather it’s never hot. No matter how many Brittons complain (and faint) those few days of 20-22*C, that’s not real heat. So, two weeks of temperatures close to 30*C sound like heaven. Except for one thing: society dictates I should have “a bikini body”.

What does “a bikini body” mean exactly? It means that only thin women, with beautiful bodies, should parade themselves wearing a bikini. The rest of us, if we dare go to the beach at all, should cover ourselves up.

An infamous gym advertisement shamed women into exercising by asking: this summer do you want to be a mermaid or a whale? Not a very cheerful thought for an overweight lady who’s planning to enjoy the beach.

When summer is near, women are expected to starve themselves or spend many hours at the gym in preparation. (Only the women. Men can prance around at the beach practically naked even if their bodies would make the late Hugo Chavez look like a male underwear model).   

This may be hard to believe now, but I spent most of my life without even thinking about weight. I was skinny without even trying. I always ate what I wanted, whenever I wanted. And when I really liked the food, I ate a lots of it: three servings of grandma’s pasta in one sitting, or enough French fries for three adults, or four empanadas, or a massive bag of popcorn and candies… I could eat a lot and still beg for more. Somehow, my body just dealt with it. I was the –Where does she put it?- girl.

Things changed somewhere in my early 20’s. Without even noticing, I put on a bit more than 30 pounds (15 kilos), without changing my habits at all.  30 pounds may not seem like a lot, but when you are 4’11 in height, even a few extra pounds make you look like a balloon. Also, sad truth, when it comes to being overweight… it’s all about distribution. A curvy body can be very sexy. Except I carry all my extra weight in my stomach, face and breast, while I have no fat where I need it: hips and butt. Definitely NOT what people call a “bikini body”.

A blood test confirmed that I have an underactive thyroid. I was properly medicated and went to the nutritionist, who put me on a very strict diet I followed rigorously. The diet was simply eating small portions of healthy food, with low-calorie soup as entrance and a no-fat no-calorie dessert. Also, healthy snacks at mid-morning and afternoon. I was never hungry, but I couldn’t eat ANYTHING I actually wanted to eat. Except once a week I was allowed to choose ONE thing I liked… I usually chose either one serving of pasta, pizza, a pastry, or a burger. (Once the extra weight is gone, the dieter graduates to three things a week).  

I also began exercising every day, using a stationary bike. I walked everywhere as well. As a result, I lost my extra weight, and a bit more, in three months. Every single one of my mom’s clients and friends asked for the number of my nutritionist. This was about the time I went to live to Colorado for five months.

During my time in the US I put on 10 pounds. Back home, I began feeling severely depressed. I felt like a felon who had been allowed out of prison for a little bit and now was back. I stopped following the nutritionist’s instructions and I stopped exercising. I put on 30 more pounds (in addition to the 10 I carried from the US).

After that, my weight fluctuated regularly from 130 pounds to 140. I never had my pre-USA body again.   

My mom and my aunt Betty fat-shamed me constantly. My mom never hid the fact that she finds my abdominal fat repulsive. One time, after I told her I wanted pork and fries for New Years’ eve dinner, she made pig noises and implied that I was a pig. Another day, we were out for lunch and she threatened to get up and leave me alone at the restaurant if I ordered a burger with fries. That controlling and manipulating attitude regarding my eating habits was constant. My aunt Betty also had, and has, a lot to say about what I eat.

Sadly, they are not the only fat-shamers.

I once had this chat while using a website to look for a date:

Me- I study social communications and work at my mom’s nail salon.

Random Guy- I think we already talked once. You are the fat girl.

Me- mmm… I think you are confusing me with somebody else.

Random Guy- No, I’m not. You sent me your pic, I know you’re fat.

Me- If you like girls who look like skeletons, that’s your problem.

Random Guy- I don’t like girls who look like skeletons, I like normal girls.

Me- I’m normal!

Random Guy- You are not.  

That’s when it really hit me: my weight was an obstacle. It didn’t just made it more difficult to get a date, it was keeping me unemployed. I noticed that most women who had the jobs I was qualified for had an ideal weight. I remembered when a classmate in highschool, a guy, told me that I’d have difficulties finding a job because no employer wants an unattractive girl, since that would put off the clients. Of course, he was a bully who was trying to hurt me. But, over the years, my battle with unemployment and having to settle for bad jobs didn’t prove him wrong.

By the way, I’m not one of those women who blames solely a medical condition for her weight. Yes, I have an underactive thyroid, and having Turner Syndrome makes it more difficult for the body to process carbs. Any average woman who ate exactly what I eat wouldn’t put on weight. However, it is also true that I enjoy eating. I eat pizza twice a week and order burger and fries when I go out. I regularly eat Mac and cheese. I try to make up for it by living mainly on weight watchers’ ready meals, yogurt, cereal bars or rice with tuna. This seems to be keeping me for putting on even more weight, but I won’t get my 2009 body unless I make even more sacrifices. I should eliminate the food I like from my diet, or limit it to once a week.

I also should exercise every day. But that seems like a boring chore. I already have a job I hate, I don’t wish to spend one hour of my life on a stationary bike, when I’d much rather write, or read.    

The cost of being ‘a Mermaid’ is so much more than I’m willing to pay.

I can hear people asking…. What about health? Oh, right… my health. Well, I have no cholesterol, no diabetes, no high blood-pressure and my heart is in perfect shape (I have an MRI as proof), so are my kidneys. I have my liver enzymes slightly elevated, but that seems to be because of my Turner Syndrome and the doctors are very unconcerned about it. I can fit perfectly in those tiny airplane seats. If any of that ever changes, we can talk about health.  

At this point, losing my extra weight would be just to look prettier, to satisfy society.

It's like a phrase I once heard: Either my life is beautiful, or I am.