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...
