With each day growing darker and colder its a wonder that I can still see and that I don’t freeze to death. My body betrays me. I am far to young to feel the vice grip of the inevitable death by obesity. Each visit to the doctor is the same. My concerns are either psychosomatic or a result of my weight. Tuh! Imagine that all my aches and pains are in my mind and if I wasn’t fat, I wouldn’t believe that I’m sick anymore. Is this all that we have gained from modern medicine? I remember thinking to myself that if I could just heat up a huge knife and just cut my stomach off… I could just heal from the burn, but the fat would be gone. I am fully aware that the notion is irrational and absurd when it’s said aloud but nevertheless it was my honest thought process. I spoke to a dear friend who shall remain nameless for the sake of privacy. They offered to pay for liposuction if I found a good surgeon in the area. I called around feverishly. The verdict is out, I am not a candidate for liposuction because my BMI is far too high. My response is one of confusion and hopelessness. How can they expect me to lose half of my body weight before they will consider me for the procedure? Must I truly lose weight before I can lose fat? I began to wonder; how many people probably made this their last attempt before accepting defeat? How many people received this news and then chose to give up on life? Even I was tempted to give up on living in this foreign vessel. What then will happen to those people who cannot imagine living in their bodies for even one more day without a viable solution to address their obesity? Does anyone working in the weight loss industry consider the rejection part of the process? Does anyone even care what happens to people who deal with rejection as a microaggression for years only to be rejected by the very professionals they seek out for help? After this thought process of how easy it is to just give up, I began to make rules for myself regarding eating habits. I will never eat alone. I will never eat in front of strangers. I suffer with such guilt when I eat. I speak to myself saying, “I’m so fat, haven’t I eaten enough”, or “haven’t I eaten more than my share?”. To eat when I’ve clearly overeaten makes me a glutton, doesn’t it? Now that I’m riddled with guilt, I just starve myself because, “how dare I feel entitled to food without a pressing reason to eat?”. The new understanding of the acronym BMI: Bodies Managed Insanely