11 articles Tag Weight

Ignoring the Scales (For Now…)

Ignoring the ScalesAs most of you probably know by now, I’m on YET another weight loss mission having failed about a million times in the past, but I’m doing something a lot more enjoyable and sustainable this time in the hope that I can stick to it. I’m following a low sugar, high fat (ketogenic) diet as it’s been proven to reverse type 2 diabetes, something which is hugely appealing to me. I’ve got a family history of type 2, so theres still a chance I’ll need to be medicated even when I’m down to a healthy weight, but there’s also a good chance that it will reverse altogether.

Willpower is something I’ve struggled with in the past because food is as much of an emotional crutch to me as just simple nutrients but I’m at a point where I’m just so bloody bored of gorging on junk food all the time and the prospect of dying in my sixties (if I’m lucky…) because of a lifetime of greed is enough to make me get off of my arse.

One thing that I’m trying not to do is micro-manage my weight. Every time I’ve ever ‘dieted’ (I put that in inverted commas because I don’t actually see keto as a diet, it’s an eating plan that we should probably all be following on a much more regular basis for optimum health benefits), I tend to get fixated with the scales and weigh myself on a daily basis. This is negative for two reasons – firstly, not all victories happen on the scales. I’ve also started weight lifting, and this usually adds muscle and makes changes to the shape of your body, things which aren’t always positively reflected in terms of “weight”. Secondly, it puts me into a downward spiral of demoralisation.

Today is a prime example. Last week, I made a grand declaration that I wouldn’t be weighing myself until my birthday in mind-June, so that I got to see one big change rather than lots of little ones. However, curiosity after a week of eating well and exercising got the better of me and I stepped onto the scales and happily discovered that I’ve already lost half a stone since New Year’s Day ( YAY ME!). But this is where things go wrong – I weighed myself AGAIN this morning, only for the scales to show I’ve gained two pounds back again.

I can already feel the disappointment weighing heavy on me, even though the logical part of my brain is trying to tell me to chill the f*ck out. This is a marathon, not a sprint. SO many things can play a part in such tiny changes like hormones, water retention, even down to what clothes I’m wearing. But all of the logical explanations aren’t snapping me out of it.

There are various issues that I’ve had when it comes to weight loss, and keeping my head in the game after even the most minor of disappointments is one of the biggest. In the past, if things haven’t gone my way then it’s completely turned my head back around to the “screw it, I may as well binge again” mindset and that’s the demon I’m battling today, but battle it I shall. Instead of letting get the better of me, I’ve had coffee and biltong, I’m drinking water, I’ve taken my supplements and I’m going to the gym before I collect Sausage from school. As long as I stick to that plan and don’t wake up in an hour buried under 800 empty crisp packets, I reckon that’s a win…even if the scales ARE trying to sabotage me. Forgive me for tearing the arse out of the metaphor, but I think this is all about winning the little battles in order to win the overall war against my own laziness and greed.

I think i’ll start weighing myself either weekly or fortnightly – I need a little bit of feedback, just to motivate me and assure me that I’m moving in the right direction, but a six month wait will just be torture!

Tune in next week for “How to deal with toddlers who try to force feed you Quavers when you’re on Keto”. LOL. Not really.

The Realities of Being Fat and Pregnant

A couple of weeks ago, I read a viral Facebook post about a pregnant woman who’d been fat shamed after posting a series of photos online that she’d had taken of her and her bump. The story was then picked up by the Huffington Post after the woman was asked to take part in “The Honest Body Project”, a photo series which gives an honest look at women’s bodies.

The whole story was something which really resonated with me. Brittany Dykstra, the woman in the photos said “I’m 35 weeks pregnant and just last week I had maternity pictures taken to celebrate this horrible, but beautiful pregnancy. For the first time in about 35 weeks I felt beautiful, and was so excited to share this moment with my friends and family.”

She goes on to say “Later that day we got the sneak peak pictures back and I posted them on Facebook thinking my friends and family would think I was beautiful and would love them, however that wasn’t the case. All I received were negative comments about how huge I am, about how unhealthy I am, and about how they think my baby is going to be a 10 to 12 pound baby by the looks of how much I weigh. I literally went in the bathroom and cried for hours. It’s so hard being plus size, pregnant, sick, and getting negative comments about the way I look. If I’m happy and accepting of my body, why can’t everyone else just be happy for me?!”

Before I fell pregnant with Sausage, I wasn’t huge, probably around 12st, so a little overweight for my 5’4″ height, but not horrendously so as I have a large frame and huge boobs which tends to mean even at a ‘healthy’ body shape, I’m a little over what BMI charts say I should be. I gained a lot of weight during that pregnancy; for the first 4 months, I could barely eat anything at all and actually lost weight because of hyperemesis gravidarum. Then I developed gestational diabetes and despite trying to eat a low GI diet, the weight piled on. Once I’d given birth, I was in a cycle of depression and PTSD which meant that I never lost the baby weight and by the time I fell pregnant with Burrito Baby 5 years later, I was pushing 14 and a half stone.

I’d had every intention of losing the weight BEFORE getting pregnant again, especially as I was already diabetic, but I fell pregnant a lot quicker than I thought I would after having my implant removed, which meant dealing with pregnancy with a much higher starting weight than I would have liked. Like Brittany, once I reached a certain point in my pregnancy, I also felt a little more body-confident; my shape was suddenly defined by the life growing inside of me, not the amount of biscuits I ate, and while I wasn’t about to post photos of myself in lingerie on Facebook, I totally understand whet she meant about feeling beautiful for the first time in a long time.

According to the story, Dykstra started receiving abuse from family and friends regarding her weight, although no examples are given and I can’t help but wonder how much of this “abuse” was unwanted but well-meaning concern for her obvious weight problem. Because, while I am against the idea of ‘fat-shaming’ (lets face it, us fatties do tend to KNOW we’re fat, we don’t need to be constantly reminded), I do think it’s deluded to think that being overweight doesn’t cause health problems, especially during pregnancy. Being “happy” with your body is one thing, but being aware of health ramifications is also hugely important.

On a medical level, obesity during pregnancy can increase the risk of gestational diabetes, preeclampsia, infection, problems during labour, increased birth weight, birth defects, babies with a high birth weight and even miscarriage. This isn’t about ‘fat shaming’ or ‘thin privilege’ – these are REAL risks, caused by being overweight.

On a personal level, I definitely found that being overweight during pregnancy adversely affected me. Hauling around a giant bump AND a giant body was genuinely exhausting and I honestly think my SPD and mobility would have been slightly better had I not been putting so much pressure on my pelvis with my excess weight (although and friend of mine, who is very slim, also had SPD, probably worse than my own, so I’m not saying obesity is a cause or necessarily means I suffered more, just that I don’t think it helped at all).

I’m not saying that Brittany Dykstra deserved to be abused for being overweight, nor am I saying that she deserved to feel any less beautiful than other pregnant women who enjoy the glow of carrying a child, but tip-toeing around the issue of obesity isn’t right either. Lots of women get pregnant at a less than ideal time of their lives and I’m sure that, given the choice, women would always choose to be in peak health when conceiving but it doesn’t always happen that way.

The thing is, weight is such a hot-button issue for most people. I know I’ve taken offense, even from medical professionals who’ve tried to talk to me about being overweight. It’s one of those things that people are hugely sensitive about because it’s so closely tied to their self-esteem, so choosing a moment where a mother-to-be is feeling good about herself to give her a lecture isn’t the best timing, not to mention the fact that she probably already KNOWS the issues AND has a team of health professionals telling her the same thing, but that doesn’t alter the fact that being fat and pregnant can be a problem, so it’s not simply a case of whether a person is happy with their weight.

What do you think? Are people overstepping the mark by expressing concern for her? Have you experienced pregnancy as an overweight person? I’d love to hear your opinions and experiences because this whole story has obviously struck a chord with me.

My Weight Loss Journey

belly-2354_640I’ve written on this blog SO many times about how I need to lose weight, need to get fit, need to improve my lifestyle. In fact, I’ve written it so many bloody times that I’m bored of the same old self-motivating stuff that never really works and I’m not going to even link to any of the old posts here as they’re all bobbins.

Here’s the thing; over Christmas, I was really ill. The whole family was, in fact, BB and I spent about 70% of Christmas Day asleep on Husband’s Aunt’s sofa, so it was a pretty rubbish day for us, despite our family doing their best to cheer us up and make us feel better. I dragged us all back to the doctors on Boxing Day and the GP decided to send me for some tests as the illness had been lingering for a few weeks by this point and he thought I might have Glandular Fever (Mono, for anyone reading in the States). By the times the tests came back though, it became clear that GF wasn’t the issue. In fact, the reason I wasn’t getting better was that my other conditions (type 2 diabetes and an underactive thyroid) were being so poorly controlled that my immune system just wasn’t strong enough to fight off the germs.

I was sent away with an additional diabetes medication (alogliptin) to take alongside my metformin, my thyroxine dose was upped and I was also put on cholesterol medication (atorvastatin) as my cholesterol had crept up too. I was also advised that losing weight was something I needed to seriously consider. My GP drew a graph to show me what my current state of health was doing for me (which I’ve skillfully recreated in MS Paint…):
Diabetes
The straight line represents what my blood sugar control should have been like, in an ideal world, for the last 7 years. The squiggly line is an approximation of what my control has actually been like over that time period. The red striped area in between represents actual damage that has been done to my body in the time that my condition has been poorly controlled. For a diabetic, that translates to damage to the retinas, heart, kidneys and other organs, as well as reduced healing times and potential shortening of life in the long run.
That little graph scared the crap out of me. 
So, while in the past I’ve written posts containing platitudes about how I MUST lose weight and I WILL take control, this post is being written from a slightly different angle. You see, that was all about 8 weeks ago now and in that time, I’ve actually managed to lose 18lb already. There are two things which have been a great help, so far; My Fitness Pal, where I log every single thing I eat and keep track of how many calories I’ve consumed (I’m allowed 1610cal at the moment) and the Pedometer app on iPhone which I’ve been using to try to up my daily step total to 10,000. I’ve walked the school run instead of using the car and at least 2 days a week, I’ll walk a super long way home instead of coming straight back. A couple of small changes to my lifestyle and I’ve already made a huge difference.
Something about seeing the potential damage done to my organs, drawn crudely in a free biro from a drugs rep, on the back of a blank prescription has given me the kick up the butt that I so badly needed. I still have a long way to go; I need to lose another 40lbs to get anywhere near a healthy weight, but losing the first 18lb with such small effort has made me realise that it’s not as hard as it seems. My willpower has slipped once or twice, but instead of throwing the towel in like I have in the past, I’m moving past each minor blip and seeing it as reinforcement to my will to complete the journey.
Also, I need to up my exercise game – if anyone has any recommendations for home workouts which won’t make me keel over or run away screaming, I’d be super grateful for them!

Are We Fat Because of the Weather?

Exercising in the SunshineFor the last couple of days, Husband and I have been getting out on our bikes for a few hours. In fact, in the last 2 days, we’ve ridden 23 miles, which is a piffling amount for my Husband, who’s a lifelong cyclist, but it’s a huge achievement for me, someone who’s been on a bike probably twice in the past ten years. Sure, I feel a bit like I’ve been repeatedly kicked in the perineum, but I’ve discovered that I actually really love cycling. Yesterday, we rode to Belfairs Woods and around the dirt track and I was knackered beaming by the end of it.

On our rides, I’ve noticed a lot more people out and about, exercising and enjoying themselves. Yesterday, we saw joggers, walkers, cyclists, even a whole bunch of kids taking advantage of the number of free tennis courts that we have around our area. Everyone seemed happy to be out in the sun and their energy levels were infectious. I couldn’t help but wonder if the reason that everyone was engaging in healthier activities was the fact that the sun was shining?

You have to admit, here in the UK, our weather can be appalling – this latest spate of good weather has only just sprung itself upon us after one of the worst winters on record and there’s no denying that cold, wet weather makes us all want to hibernate. When the weather is rubbish, we all like to stay indoors and indulge in comfort food and it’s infinitely harder to find the motivation to exercise.

When your house is warm and cosy, the thought of pulling on your running shoes and pounding the pavements in the cold drizzle is wholly unappealing. The other issue is the fact that we run out of daylight hours before we get a chance to exercise. Anyone who works 9-5 will spend the majority of daylight at work and running in the dark is not my idea of fun (or safety). So, the other option is a gym subscription, but even our local council run gym is now over £40 a month for a basic membership, which is out of a lot of people’s budgets.

Having said all of that, I looked into the statistics and was surprised by what I found. According to the latest data, 61.3% or UK adults are classified as overweight or obese, which is shockingly high, but by the same token 60% of Australian adults are also in the overweight or obese category, which goes to show that there are definitely other factors at work.

Obviously, I can’t blame the fact that I’m fat entirely on the weather, but all I know is this: I have been so much happier exercising in the sunshine this past week and I don’t seem to be the only one. Would we all live more active lifestyles if we had year-round sun?

What about you? Are you more active in the sunshine? Are you a gym bunny all year round or do you hibernate like me? Leave me a comment below.

Weight Loss, Body Shape, Blah, Blah, Blah…

It’s an age-old debate that’s probably gone back for longer than we can imagine; the back-and-forth that surrounds what is considered to be aesthetically pleasing in a woman. For most of my life, it’s been targeted at fashion magazines and the media in general for touting ‘as-skinny-as-possible’ as the ‘ideal’. I’ve seen many a story about how this designer or that designer is using walking skeletons in their runways shows and how we’re creating generations of kids who refuse to eat.

Just recently, I’ve noticed social media getting in on the act with several photos doing the rounds concerning body shape and body image. Here’s a couple of them:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The image on the left is being posted with captions like “I wish I lived in a time when this was attractive” and the photo on the right speaks for itself. Another example of this latest trend is the focus on actresses such as Christina Hendricks who, if you don’t already know, looks like this:

The lady in the top left and Christina Hendricks are both gorgeous, there’s no denying it. But, do people really think that this is in ANY WAY more achievable than the skinny girls at top right? Let me tell you this – it’s not. Both of these women are voluptuous but that’s not down to diet or exercise (okay, it might be a bit down to diet and exercise). What you’re seeing here is GENETICS. Do you know how rare it is to find a true hourglass figure? Christine Hendricks and the lady above are both blessed in that they both have an ample bosom and a round bottom. Neither carries any weight on their face and very little on their arms or mid-sections. Unless they both spend hours in the gym doing only arm exercises or sleep with a facial Slendertone on, it’s doubtful that they managed to do this on purpose. 

Now, let’s talk about the skinny girls. How about, they’re just naturally skinny? Granted, the one in the middle is very thin, but there are people in the world who just are, no matter how much we bitch and moan about it. The problem here isn’t the fact that some people are skinny and some people are curvy, it’s the pedestals they’re placed on. I read recently that Christina Hendricks is so fed up with interviewers asking her about her body, that she actually has her assistant pre-warn them that she won’t answer any questions on the subject.

I haven’t seen any magazine stands in the past few days but I’d bet my last tenner that every single one aimed at women has a headline featuring some sort of ‘New Year, New You’ ‘How to Lose 15lb in 10 days’ diet and exercise plan, and I bet they’re all coupled with a photo of a 21-year-old model who’s been in hair, make up and styling for hours then airbrushed to within an inch of her life.

I supposed I’m thinking about all of this because I do have a lot of changes to make in the New Year. I need to lose a considerable amount of weight and, most importantly, I need to get healthy. But, no matter how hard I try, I’m not going to look like a 50’s pin-up. I’m not going to look like Christina Hendricks and I’m definitely not going to look like a runway model. I’m hopefully going to look like a slimmer, healthier version of me, a 28-year-old woman whose belly has carried a baby, whose hips have been used for balancing a toddler on, whose arms have lugged a million loads of washing, whose face has the beginnings of laughter lines and who would be happy just to be able to play netball again.

I’m not aiming for magazine perfection – I’m just aiming for a better version of me and I think if everyone did that and ignored the so-called ‘ideals’ we’d all be a lot happier.

Running Back to Motherhood

I want another baby.

Anyone who has read this blog over the past 2 years or knows me at all will know that this is a big statement. After having Sausage and the PTSD that followed, I honestly thought I’d never want any more children. The thought of going through a pregnancy and birth as hideous as my first was just too much to bear, let alone the thought of being unable to hold yet another baby for the first week of their life, having to view them through wires and tubes. I told myself I didn’t have enough love in me to share it between Sausage and another baby, I told myself that it would spoil the relationship I have with her, I told myself that I just couldn’t do it.

But, something has changed, be it the passing of time or seeing friends with babies or simply my biological clock, and it’s telling me I’m ready. I almost feel overwhelmed by that single thought, I never thought I’d be in this place or ready to do it all again, but I am.

Mentally, anyway. Physically? Not so much…

When I fell pregnant with Sausage, I was 23, about 3st overweight but generally healthy.

Now, I’m 28, diabetic, have an stupidly under active thyroid and am about 5st overweight.

If I thought the last pregnancy was hard, any future ones will be terrifying in my current physical state. I’ve written plenty of times about my intention to lose weight and nothing has ever come of it, save for dropping half a stone here and there, only to put it back on again. But I need to do this, for many reasons.

The main one is Sausage. She’s been around for 4 years and has witnessed my unhealthy relationship with food, no matter how much I kid myself that I hide it. Yes, she’s four, but that’s still plenty young enough to change my ways and for it to have a really positive impact on her.

Also, while I want my body to be healthy enough to cope with pregnancy, I want to be able to still be Sausage’s Mummy. I don’t want to have to change what we do because of being pregnant, so getting fit and strong will be a real help with that. Last time around I suffered with SPD, hyperemesis gravidarum, high blood pressure, swollen ankles and hands and gestational diabetes, all of which I’m hoping will be improved by being fitter and stronger. It may all still happen, but at least I’ll be able to say that I did everything I could to prevent it.

So, what’s the plan?

I’m going to learn to run.

I realise I already know how to run, but for someone as unhealthy and unfit as me, it’s not as simple as putting on some trainers and pounding the pavement (or maybe it is?) but I’ll have a little help from ‘Get Running’, an iPhone app designed to get you from couch to 5km in nine weeks. That’s right, if I start today I could be running 5k non-stop by 23rd October. Exciting, eh? So I’m going to start later today and will blog about my progress with this program in the hope of inspiring anyone else who wants to give it a go but just doesn’t feel confident enough. I’m going to hit the ‘Thinking Slimmer’ hard again too in the hope that I can sort out my dependence on food.

As well as being fit and healthy, I have a secondary goal, which is being able to do Race for Life in 2013 at a run, rather than a fast walk. In 2011, my time was around 45 minutes, 2012 was about 42 minutes – I want 2013 to be nearer the 25 minute mark.

Wish me luck!

MISSING: One Sense of Self-Worth

It’s a funny thing, self-worth. Despite the fact that the point of self-worth is ‘what you think of yourself’, it can be intrinsically linked to what others think of you. I think anyone who reads my blog regularly will know that it’s not been the best year for me. I don’t mean to be all ‘boo-hoo’, I know people out there who’ve had it a lot worse than me, but I’m really struggling to remember what the point of me is.

I know it’s depression and hormones and goodness-knows what else talking, but I feel like I’m treading water with a big weight tied to my foot, trying to drag me down. I can’t remember any ways in which I’m of any use to anyone anymore.

Yesterday was particularly black for me. I spent a  lot of it crying, sometimes because of how I feel, sometimes because of stupid things like Mo Farah’s wife being pregnant with twins. No, I don’t know why that made me cry either. I spent all day thinking about the fact that Husband and Sausage would be better off without me. I tend to just mess things up, like forgetting to pay bills and stupid things that should be second nature to me by now. I’m 28, for fuck’s sake, I’ve been married for 6 years and a mother for four of them. I look at my life and I can’t think of a single thing that I’m needed for. Everything could function just as well without me, probably to a much better degree of efficiency. It’s not like I even have a job where I’m able to contribute any decent amount to the family coffers.

I don’t feel like a very good mother. And what makes it worse is that it’s self-perpetuating, I feel like a shit mum, I get depressed, the depression turns me into a self-loathing waste of space and I behave like a shit mum. How do I ever win?

I’ve suffered with depression and low self-esteem for a long time, but I don’t think it’s ever been this bad.

I don’t really know what to do.

I don’t want to take pills.

No, that’s not true, I do want to take pills, I want to swallow a little magic tablet once a day and feel numb to it all, but I won’t. That’s not a judgement of others, it’s more to do with the fact that I’ve tried them once before and they made me feel worse and if I’m honest, I’m quite scared of them. My Nan has taken Prozac for about 15 years and she’s probably the most miserable person I’ve ever met.

Husband’s answer was exercise. He said that releasing endorphins will make me feel better and have the added bonus of making my disgusting carcass (MY words, not his) get a bit less fat, which will have a knock-on effect with improving my self-esteem. He’s completely right, but for some reason that I’ve not even worked out for myself yet, this made me want to murder him. Or at least hit him quite hard.

I have to try something. I feel like my soul has been put into a sack and beaten repeatedly with a bat.

Wordless Wednesday – Weight Loss Inspiration

I decided to take Pippa’s lead this week and get involved in Wordless Wednesday (although, this doesn’t feel very wordless…). I’ve chosen a photo of myself, about 20 minutes before I became Mrs. C. I chose this because the weight I am there is what I’d like to get back down to, so it’s a reminder that it is possible for me to get back there.

 

Pies: Running the Weight Loss Gauntlet

Yesterday, I posted this tweet:

Now, whilst I may have dealt with it in my usual glib, slightly self-deprecating way, the essence of what I was saying was true. I’ve lost weight by avoiding baked goods. You see, I work in an office that’s just off the high street and within a 2 minute walk of my desk there’s a Greggs, an M&S, a Subway, a Tesco, a fish and chip shop…you get my point, right?

I’ve blogged before about having a weight problem, for which the reasons are numerous. Not least of all the fact that I’m both greedy and lazy, a fatal combination when it comes to the size of my arse. But one of my main problems is that I have this enormous, insatiable, compulsive urge to fill my face with shit food. The shitter the better. So, when I pop out to do the banking at work and wander past not one but THREE branches of Greggs (yes, our high street really does have three branches of Greggs) I will inevitably buy not only a sandwich, but also a sausage roll, a steak bake and a bag of crisps. Oh, and a Coke Zero. Don’t forget the Coke Zero, that makes all the difference.

Anyway, the crux of all of this pastry-related rambling is that I thought the hard part of this dieting lark was going to be when I was at work and tempted by the meat-filled lovelies being created around the corner. But no, I’ve found it easy to avoid. In fact, this week’s weight-loss tally is now up to 5lb. Seems a lot in a week, but I’m sure a lot of it is water retention and whatnot.

No, the hard part is right now, sitting at home on my day off. Being busy at work has meant that my mind has been on other things, but as I sit here all I can think about is what there is in the fridge to eat. It’s like I’ve become scared of the cupboards, worried they’ll suck me in and Husband will walk into the kitchen in half an hour to find me laying on the floor in a food-induced coma, with bloody stumps for fingers where I’ve used my nails to open a can of hotdog sausages, face smeared with Nutella and the dog licking peanut butter and cheese off of my chest.

So you see, it is like running a gauntlet, ’cause that one thing I’m trying to avoid – you know, food – it’s FUCKING EVERYWHERE.

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Next week, tune in to find out how I join a gym and died in a pile of sweat. (Not really…)

Sausage roll picture courtesy of extrordinarypiemaster Flickr feed

Healthy Size?

I’ve been vocal in the past about my problems with my weight (for explanation of said problems, refer to this simple formula: Lazier than a sloth + Appetite of a blue whale = Arse like a hippo). Husband says I’m too hard on myself and that my self-criticism is too much, especially around Sausage, but I just like to think that I’m realistic. I can’t bear it when people who are overweight claim that the have no idea why they’re overweight. It makes me want to shout. It’s not difficult, if you eat too much and don’t move enough, you WILL GET FAT. That’s not to say that I judge people for being fat. I’m fat, I’m just not claiming to be in the dark about how I got here.

While I was out shopping today, rummaging through the sale rail in New Look, I heard a voice say “Excuse me, have you got this in a healthy size?”. I turned around to see a lady of about my age, probably about 6′ tall and clearly on the higher end of the plus size section. The sales assisstant asked her to repeat herself and she said again “Have you got this in a healthy size? You know, a size to fit a lady like me?”

Now, while I salute people for having confidence and self-love, I think this is actually very destructive. This woman was obviously very confident and happy in her own skin, but who in the world told her that being fat was healthy? There’s nothing wrong with being overweight, if you know the risks involved, just like smoking, drinking, etc. You’re an adult. If you want to fuck up your lungs/liver/pancreas, go right ahead, but don’t kid yourself into thinking that this is a healthy way to be.

I don’t think this woman should be criticized for being happy to be overweight, but this message that you can be fat and healthy at the same time is just downright wrong and quite frankly, dangerous.

As Sausage grows up, I’ll be encouraging to love herself for who she is and to be happy with her appearance, but I certainly won’t be teaching her that it’s okay to be fat. While I’d never want her to suffer the perpetual cycle of dieting that so many women live by, shouldn’t we be teaching our kids what healthy actually means?

What do you think?