I’m so sick of Weight Watchers.

A couple of weeks ago, I finished reading Bodies, by Susie Orbach. It was like a teeny tome so it was a bit of a slog. The material was dense and often clinical. But she is so right. Like she’s always been right. Our culture (in general) and I (specifically) tend to view the body as a project to work on. Something that can always be improved. It can be toned and sculpted with diet and exercise or surgery. We apply makeup, shave our armpits and legs, pluck eyebrows. The body is something that must be endured. Periods, pregnancy, menopause, sickness, injury, hunger, thirst, satiety, over-fullness. But I ask you, why should I find horrifying the ancient practice of foot binding but not a young mother’s desire to have a portion of her digestive organs removed or stapled to make losing weight easier? Why should having a surgeon suck out your belly fat with a laser and industrial vacuum be more acceptable than freezing a hated limb so that it must be amputated?

For  nearly a year now, I’ve been going through the motions of WW, but honestly, that’s about it. I haven’t stayed on program. I’ve gained back all of the weight I lost, plus a pound. And I’m so tired of it all. Tired of sitting in that meeting and pretending to be excited about it. Tired of hearing the same shtick again and again and again. Tired of feeling that “this week is the week I get back on track”, only to disappoint myself two days later. I’m tired of being disappointed in myself. I’m tired of thinking about food all the time. I’m tired of the idea that I have to have a BMI of 25 to be acceptable in public. It’s exhausting. I just want to be able to live in my body, whatever its shape, and have that be okay. I don’t want to view it as a project, as something to be worked on, as something be be endured (like I’m going to survive my body somehow). I’m tired of feeling like my body is the Other, that we are adversaries, it and I. I am my body. That’s it. I am my body and my body is me.

…If only I weren’t so fat.