Like many women, I always felt as if my body was public property. Last year, I decided the two of us needed to work on our relationshipPhotograph: Kilito Chan/Getty Images Photograph: Kilito Chan/Getty Images s the pandemic eases, the hobbies and interests many of us developed during lockdown start to be forgotten.
As a Chinese-immigrant kid in Sweden, growing up among public housing estates, this version of happiness seemed unachievable to me. My parents didn’t look after their bodies like that. They used their bodies as tools in their work, lifting 10kg of sauce in kitchens, moving deliveries in factories or taking inventories in supermarkets. And when they were home we ate: big dinners, that was our happiness. And boy, were we happy – so happy that my BMI has always been above 27.
A lifetime of being medically obese led to me having my BMI constantly rammed down my throat by well-meaning healthcare professionals, many of whom did not realise that their moralisation of my body and lifestyle as “bad” simply added to theI’d already spent years internalising. At the time, I was “bad” if I didn’t change my fat body; now, in the era of fierce “self-love”, I am bad if I do because – twist – I’m incapable of loving it the way it is. Us big girls really can’t win.
Awesome, EvelynMok. This is your new life now and we don't get time back. Smash those weights as hard as you can. Bravo! 'Fat shaming' is a misnomer; should be called 'health advice'. It's not just about the physical benefits, but the mental rewards you get for pushing through.