‘I’m surprised you’re as big as you are’
Eh. Believe it or not those were the words of a 97 year old.
As mentioned in my first blog ‘This is me’ I am a paramedic and an awful lot of my life is spent at work. I spend more time with crew mates and regular callers than I do my own boyfriend and family.
I, myself, personally seem to cop quite a fair share of abuse off most patients, not particularly violence but more verbal abuse. There is rarely a day that goes by where the police aren’t involved some how and the possibility of a normal day is even rarer.
But this is possibly the most offensive thing anyone has ever said.
So picture the scene, it’s been a long night shift, one of them shifts where you start to plan how you could leave without anyone noticing or accidentally lower the tail lift onto you own head and become trapped under it and have a year off work due to the trauma it’s caused you both mentally and physically. Myself and my crew mate, spend an hour or so trying to get an elderly lady off the floor. Of course, no one falls in a wide open area. No. She’s trapped between the toilet and the shower in a tiny bathroom. She’s quite large but we don’t complain. We devise a plan and crack on. The logistics and the forward planning didn’t really work out but we compromised and overcome and managed to get her off the floor. She’s in the back of the ambulance, I’ve checked her over again, I’ve given her some more pain relief, I’m just about to give her some good ole ‘gas and air’ for the journey when she comes out with this whopper...
‘It’s a wonder you are as big as you are!’
Although that lady never meant to nor realised she had upset me that day, she really did. It was something I haven’t really stopped thinking about. If she saw me as a BIG girl, what on earth do other people think of me. There is absolutely nothing wrong with being big, I believe we should be who we choose to be and what makes us ‘US’ is all that matters but for me it really did hurt that day. I used to be tiny, a perfect 10 (with visible abs may I add). I used to Box and train most days of the week in some way or another and other days I used to starve.
I used to have probably what would be considered nowadays a eating disorder. Everyday I would go off to school with my lunch but would throw it away as soon as leaving the house, I would buy one single Calippo ice lolly at lunch and live off that all day. Evening meals could be a bit tricky to navigate but I would manage to dodge it most nights, either going to a friends house or saying I had eaten at school etc. On the days I couldn’t dodge dinner I would either make myself sick or actually be quite content I had eaten because I STILL loved food.
I spend most days now worrying about my weight for many reasons.
1) I feel so fat most of the time and ashamed of my body that it stops me doing things I want to do
2) I worry that some days the temptation of slipping back into the Calippo a day is too tempting
I can’t ever leave the house unless my arms are covered because I ONCE saw a picture of myself where my arms looked huge. I cry before leaving for any form of social function such as a wedding, birthday party or even a funeral. My Dad calls me N-Chubz for fuck sake. Lube has to constantly reassure me which must be pretty tiring for him as well. It has literally taken over my life. I’m well aware that I am not the same size 10 athlete I used to be but I didn’t realise I was noticeable BIG.
This evening myself and Lube are going to join the gym! Thunder thighs at the ready, engaged and ready to chafe. Let’s do this the healthy way.
