Three months ago, our tub/shower was the stuff that nightmares were made of.
Its first obvious problem was that no matter what I did to clean it, soap scum and residue would linger. But part of my problem with cleaning was that I couldn't squat long enough before my knees and my back were in agony, to make sure that the floor of the tub truly was clean.
I have since found a spectacular tub and tile cleaner that I use weekly -- yay for adulting wins. It is a "spray and set" cleaner, so bending over and squatting is much less of an issue. But aside from the issues surrounding cleaning, that tub/shower presented additional nightmares for me.
Ever since I was a kid, I've loved to take baths. At my parents' house, the same house I grew up in as well as where I lived for 12 years after I moved back to New York from Florida, I took baths regularly. But I never had the problem that I had with the tub/shower in our apartment for as long as we have lived there up until well, now. The sheer weight of my body would overflow the tub when it was full.
But there was one more problem with our tub/shower that occurred when I was in it, taking a shower. The tub floor would shift. Carole King could have been singing about me in the shower when she sung "I Feel The Earth Move Under My Feet." I never told anyone, husband included; it was downright embarrassing, and it sure didn't feel body-positive to BE embarrassed about that happening. Not to mention, it was scary. I didn't need the tub to collapse just because I walked on its floor.
Fast-forward to now. For the first time since Anthony and I have lived in our apartment, the tub doesn't overflow when I get in it anymore. Bending over to clean the tub floor is still not entirely comfortable, but it's easier than it was before. And, on one late night while I was taking a shower, I noticed that the Earth was no longer moving under my feet. Anthony was asleep, but I finally (and tearfully) confided in him the next day about the shifting ground while I showered, and how it is no longer a problem. Thirty-five pounds down, and the literal and figurative weight of the embarrassment in these situations had lifted.
Non-scale victories, or NSVs, are often related to your personal quality-of-life -- one of the biggest reasons for my pursuit of losing weight. Society has come a long way in terms of fat accommodation, but at the same time, we have a long, long, way to go. That said, not every quality-of-life issue for a person suffering from the disease of obesity is related to societal norms. And while some NSVs are largely common and relatable to multiple people who have the disease of obesity, others are more personal.
NSVs are a big topic in my Wegovy Facebook groups. Some of the big ones are the renewed ability to cross one leg over the other, or old clothes falling off. I'll admit to posting a photo of the beginnings of crossing my left leg over my right leg, and I publicly shared a photo of me wearing a pair of pants that are now too big for me. Nothing wrong with any of that. But those NSVs aren't necessarily about quality-of-life.
During the first half of 2024, my quality-of-life was significantly diminished. I've spoken in a previous post about standing in the security line at JFK, in the middle of February, covered in sweat. My knees roared. My back hurt. I could barely pick up my feet. Short of asking for a wheelchair, there was nothing that I could do to make it better -- and in that moment, I took the sweat and the pain over the humiliation of needing a wheelchair (which shouldn't feel humiliating... but, societal norms and expectations). I am hopeful that my next visit to an airport, which is coming up soon, will be an easier experience.
Recently, one of my best friends of over 20 years (we met in middle school at age 13) mentioned to me that I could have a long conversation now without having to stop and gasp for air. I was shocked; I didn't even realize that was happening. She was relieved, as she didn't know previously how to address my health and quality-of-life with me without me becoming defensive. And I was touched that she had been so concerned, but I apologized to her for being so abrasive about my health in the past. Someone who knows and loves me as well as she does never would have meant any harm by mentioning her concerns. The entire conversation was a NSV in itself.
On the heels of that NSV, earlier in the year I noticed with reluctance that my breath control while singing had regressed. I'd had COVID in January, which was an easy excuse. Then, in the spring, when I could no longer blame COVID, I blamed my allergies. But it was becoming difficult to deny that phrases that I could once sing through without needing a breath, now needed a few extra breaths. My singing coach handled it like a diplomat, and we added extra breaths wherever they felt the least noticeable. But I was discouraged. I knew that the phrasing didn't sound professional but rather, very amateur (if you're a singer, you know). And I am my own harshest critic -- but I couldn't face what the true problem was. It is highly possible that both COVID and allergies didn't help the problem, but the amount of weight that I was carrying made it impossible for me to sing to the best of my ability. As soon as this past June, after I'd lost about 12 pounds, I noticed that the need for those extra breaths was finally moot. While this NSV isn't necessarily a quality-of-life issue, it is a quality-of-performance issue. And it is perhaps the NSV that is the most personal and meaningful to me.
It has taken some time for me to realize this fact, but I deserve quality-of-life (and of singing voice!). Every human being deserves it. And NSVs are important to the process of fighting food noise because they promote and lead to a better quality-of-life. I will, of course, continue to fight for society to be more size-inclusive and more considerate of the quality-of-life of people suffering from the disease of obesity, or anyone who lives life in a larger body. Let's take the shame out of asking for wheelchairs and seat belt extenders. Let's make sure theme park rides have larger ride cars available, and let's write to Barclays Center to express displeasure with its lack of wide-width seats and narrow leg room (it is the WORST place to see a concert if you live in New York and you have obesity). Let's hold restaurants accountable when all of the seats in the dining room have arms.
At the same time, let's celebrate the NSVs that I and every other person with obesity have worked for, regardless of whether or not they lead to better quality-of-life. If you feel, for yourself, that losing weight won't enhance your quality-of-life, that is okay! And if losing weight has enhanced your quality-of-life, or it has helped you fit into your favorite pants again, that's okay too (as long as you're not acting judgmental toward ANYONE of ANY size, because of their size)! As for me, I'm proud of the return of professional quality phrasing while I sing. Of no longer being afraid that my tub/shower will collapse. Of a lot less huffing and puffing. I finally have hope that I will have even better quality-of-life.
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