The Very Bad Word
Today, my psychologist said a Very Bad Word. It had to do with my eating habits, my weight, my body image, my mental health and my self-perceptions. If you have seen me lately, you know that I’m almost the biggest I’ve ever been. I’m five-foot-seven and a little under 155 kgs. I have a stomach, which I never had until about five or six years ago, and something like four chins. My arm-flaps could knock down a footballer. If that shocks you — well, I don’t blame you. It shocks me, too. You’ve probably guessed by now that the Very Bad Word starts with an F and ends with an AT. But you’re wrong. In fact, the word “fat” wouldn’t have disturbed me at all. I use it to describe myself. It’s become a neutral term: short, tall, fat, thin . . . No, this word starts with an A. My psychologist and I were talking about my stomach pain, which has been hanging around for weeks, but was annoying me towards the end of our session. She casually said to me, “Every one of the people I see wi
