In which I describe why I'm here

Over the last several years, I've become an avid but admittedly casual advocate of Health at Every Size, body acceptance, fatshion, fat activism, intuitive eating, and all those other amazing facets of the size positivity movement. Although I only just recently heard of Fat is a Feminist Issue, my initial reaction was pretty much "fuck yeah, Susie Orbach."  I won't claim to have any kind of exceptional size-positive credentials, but I'm one of its quiet, somewhat apathetic supporters. You know the type: I'm not making fat activism a central cause of my existence or part of my day job, but I call people out on fat-shaming as I can, and let it affect my TV choices. (Yay Huge! Boo, Biggest Loser!)

But like many people who embrace HAES, I'm objectively not very good at the H. I don't exercise regularly, and I've never stuck with a physical activity or an eating routine (diet or otherwise) for more than two or three months, if that. I've had recurrent binge eating problems since my early teens.

And I was just diagnosed with obstructive sleep apnea at the age of 31.


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Now, the three things that your doctor will tell you when you first get diagnosed with sleep apnea are as follows:

1. You need a CPAP. (There are other approaches to treatment, like dental appliances, but this is the one that your basic family practice doc knows about and reflexively refer you to.)
2. Avoid central nervous system depressants, especially before bed. (Layman's translation: you know how booze makes you snore more? It also make you apneate more. Yes, apneate is totally a word that I didn't just make up right now. *nod*)
3. You really oughta lose some weight, fatty. (Yes, this is couched in terms of increasing physical activity and controlling diet or whatever. But let's be honest. We all know what it means.)

And of course, my initial reaction to that was "fuck you." Fuck you for automatically assuming that my weight is the problem; fuck you for casually mentioning weight loss as though it were some quick fix and not a major life change; and especially fuck you for effectively shaking your head and offering to hand me over to the weight-loss industry, as though they weren't instrumental in creating, aiding and abetting the body-image dysfunction and self-shaming that got me here.

After the anger and panic subsided, though, I did some research. And yes, obesity and apnea are associated, though I don't believe the causal relationship is particularly clear. Not everyone with one has the other. There is definitely evidence to show that reducing weight can improve apnea symptoms in ways that no other noninvasive treatment does. (There are no particularly great drugs, and surgery is an invasive, last-ditch option.) And conversely, treating apnea can act as a catalyst for weight loss, as energy levels improve and cravings for short-term fixes subside.

I looked candidly at my treatment choices, and realized that I really, really don't want to be dependent on a machine  -- or even a dental device -- to help me breathe for the rest of my life. I'm ok with doing it as part of a larger knockout-punch approach to getting this condition under control, and I will, but I am not going to choose at age 31 to use a CPAP for the rest of my life.

So, I decided, I am making the choice -- now, today -- to mindfully overhaul my eating habits and increase the level of physical activity I'm doing. I refuse to let my life revolve around food or weight forever, but I also refuse to accept that this condition is untreatable.

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Here's the thing, though: I'm not the world's most self-aware human being, but my psyche and I, well, we've met. And the one thing that helps me commit to change is structure. What I need in order to capitalize on my new-found motivation is structure. Pre-existing, one-size-fits-all structure -- a strong, external framework that I can use as a scaffolding to bring my previous expectations to, and see how I can integrate one with the other.  And among all the possible structures and choices available to me, there's one that stands out as a relatively inexpensive all-in-one, pre-fab package of accountability and support from totally neutral parties. Sort of the IKEA bookcase of lifestyle change support systems.

So I made a choice. A choice that I believe to be the correct one for me right now, but that I'm nevertheless incredibly intellectually and emotionally conflicted about, for reasons that any fat activist will understand.

Therefore, yesterday, I joined a certain internationally known weight loss program, hereafter referred to as the Plan. You know, the one that turns nutritional values into... well, let's call them Dots.

And that's what this blog is about.