A Moment on My Soapbox (Warning - this may offend - deal with it!)

I just read a blog, to which I was led from a blog I adore...I must say that I am appalled...I shall not name, nor link you to said blog, which then led me to several other blogs along the same lines...

I have decided that I am so very, very tired of the ridiculous nature of the world today, in which no one person has responsibilities for anything in their life...

Case in point:
This particular blog's header states that they are "PC"...and I don't mean as in "vs. a Mac"...that alone makes me angry. Politically correct? Ummmm...has anyone stopped to consider that if we make it an issue as to what words we use when we refer to people who are different from us because of their genetic coding (and by this I do not mean those who are homosexual) it will remain an issue? It is just as offensive to me to hear someone say "person with _____" when referring to a diagnosed condition such as Autism, or paralysis as it is to use "retarded" or other ugly words that we were taught were "mean" when we were little.

What does it matter if someone is physically large or small, tall or short, green or purple? Seriously...

But I digress...the topic of the post to which I was led regarded weight. It was, in short, a rant against the BMI system. Now, my disclaimer is that I realize that a person's weight my be caused by glandular issues, or lack of function in an organ, such as thyroid issues or diabetes...but let me say this: YOUR WEIGHT IS A NUMBER THAT REFERS TO THE EFFECT GRAVITY HAS ON YOU! IT HAS BEEN PROVEN THAT A LARGE NUMBER ON A SCALE CAN CAUSE SERIOUS COMPLICATIONS WITH YOUR HEALTH!!!!!!!!!

Let me also say this - the cause of that number on the scale is still YOUR responsibility...period.

It does not matter if you have diabetes, or a thyroid that is wacky, or a desire to eat junk food loaded with sugar and fat and calories, or a (insert relationship here) that said mean things to you when you were little, or you were abused, or abandoned...you make choices every time you pick something up to eat or drink, and every time you choose your activity.

It is MY choice to be sitting here right now, typing angrily while shoving leftover pizza into my mouth, knowing full well that it might cause the number on the scale to not change as readily as I'd like. It is MY choice to have slugged 10 ounces of Diet P.epsi rather than fill my glass with water, or sugar-free lemonade. It is MY choice that I hit the snooze button on my alarm and then the off button, to enjoy the coziness of my bed and being snuggled up to BB this morning, rather than get up and go for a run, or use the Wii Fit to get some designated exercise time in. It is MY choice to follow the recommendations of a nutritionist and my doctors.

It is NOT my mother's choice that she has to have an insulin pump in order to remain functional and healthy on the basest of levels. It IS her choice, however, to monitor how much of what types of food she eats every meal of every day for the last 30 years, and for the rest of her life! It IS her choice that she walks daily, and works in her garden, that she stays mentally fit by doing puzzles, quilts, knits, embroiders, reads books, has conversations with people about all manner of subjects! It IS her choice to have a positive attitude, and to have put aside years of negative recordings in her head from her childhood to finally find a way to lose weight, and now, she is taking less insulin, she can do more things with less fatigue, she can eat things which before would have sent her blood sugar into a tailspin!

It is NOT my father's choice that he has always loved food. It is NOT his choice that his eating habits caused Type 2 Diabetes 14 years ago. It IS his choice however, to continue those eating habits, resulting in a roller-coaster ride of health concerns over said 14 years, including last week's bout with Kidney Stones. It IS his choice to sit in his chair night after night, day after day, reading books, watching cooking shows, working on his laptop, rather than walking, going to the Y to work out, swim, or play racquetball...it IS his choice that he gets a baked potato with sour cream, bacon, cheese, mushrooms, onions, and globs of butter. It IS his choice that he orders a 12 ounce steak and eats every bite of it...

It is NOT my choice to have been told 6 years ago that I had PCOS. It was NOT my choice to go through a struggle to get pregnant...but it WAS my choice to listen to the doctors and try what they said. And you know what? It worked! I lost 30 pounds, stopped eating the crap that I'd been putting into my body, started getting exercise, and, just like magic, at pound 31 that came off, I got a stick that flashed the word "Pregnant" at me...and as soon as I chose to start eating the crap again, and to stop exercising, those 31 pounds and more showed up on the scale...showed up in my energy levels, in the headaches, in the bad breakouts, and dull lifeless hair...it showed up in the way my body suddenly felt energized during my 2nd pregnancy...and for the last 15 months!

It is not a perfect system, as it ONLY takes into account the height and weight of a person...but really...does it matter what other things cause the weight? NO!

If we start offering "adjusted BMI" based on things like diseases or conditions, who becomes responsible? Ummmm...not the person who was just given their BMI.

Here is the harsh reality...if you are 5'4" and weigh 165 pounds (as I am and do!), then you are OBESE. Deal with it...it is a way to tangibly measure a person in terms of finding a way to help your doctor.

I am OBESE. I wear a size 14 jeans. I wear a size 38D. I wear XL shirts. If you met me on the street, you might not think I was "that fat", or maybe not even "fat" at all...but let me assure you...the only proof that I have a skeleton is the fact that I am able to stand up at all without mechanical assistance...you can't see any bones on my body except for my facial structure, my knuckles and my knee caps...don't ask how that worked out, it just did.

If you are a size 18W, or a 24W, or, like my MIL, wear a size 44G - that is real. It does not matter what got you to that size, to that number...the reality is that puts you in a category for heightened concern regarding your health.

I know that weight is a number on a scale and NOT the only measure of fitness...BUT, it is tangible, it is something to which every person can relate...

I have a friend that is barely 5 feet tall. She is a runner, she works out daily, she eats healthy food in good amounts...and her doctor told her she should probably only weigh 100 pounds. She should lose 10% of her body weight to be healthy...and you know what? She made some changes, lost the weight, is keeping it off, and has...drum roll please...stopped having indigestion, stopped having pain in her knees and ankles...stopped having muscle cramps, stopped having PMS...was she "FAT"??? not in my estimation...

I just think we've been programmed to accept the fact that it is someone else's fault that we are the way we are...it my mother's fault that I have low self-esteem, my father's fault that I pursue shallow relationships with men who won't commit, it is my 2nd-grade teacher's fault that I am a perfectionist, it is the fault of the car in front of me that didn't turn on his signal before changing lanes that he almost cut me off, never mind that I was driving over the speed limit, talkin on my phone, yelling at the kids to stop shouting, and drinking from a can of soda...

Do you see how dangerous this has become? While I understand that things from our past have shaped us...they shape us because it is our choice...whether we choose to cope, survive, or triumph is the only difference.

I am choosing to triumph one bite of food, one step of activity, one day at a time, and no amount of political correctness, or feminist ranting will EVER make me think that a person should not take responsibility for their life.