You Absolutely Should Tell Your Gyno to F*ck Off
Enter my body-shaming time machine
Trigger Warning: This post discusses body image, dieting, and weight-related experiences.
“Shut Your Mouth”
That’s what my gynecologist would say every six months when I went in for my pap. I’d step on the scale, and the nurse would take my blood pressure. Then I’d do that weird thing we all do—hide my undies in a pile beneath my clothes even though I’m about to lay spread eagle for a stranger. I’d wait in silence, guilt-ridden and ashamed, knowing I was about to get in trouble for not losing weight since my last visit.
Most times, I’d gained more.
My doctor, an older Italian woman with a thick Staten Island accent, would warn me of the risks of being overweight: breast cancer, diabetes, etc., etc.
And her brilliant solution? “Just shut ya mouth. Stop eating.”
I wasn’t skinny, but I was definitely NOT FAT. Hell, I wish I was as thin as I was when I thought I was fat. #millennialproblems
By the time I started seeing a gyno at 17, I was no stranger to diets. I’d already been on Weight Watchers five different times since age 13. I’ve eaten more 100-calorie packs, Smart Ones, and Lean Cuisines than I can count.
Now I’m 33 and actually fat. Not the curvy, sexy “fat” my doctor considered me to be when I was a teen.
I imagine myself entering a time machine, visiting those appointments, and telling my younger self:
“You are so hot.”
“One day you’ll wish you still had this body.”
“Tell this old bitch to fuck off!”
But this shame goes back even further than my bitchy gyno. It started with an abusive dance teacher.
Dancing was my first love. I started at 8 and began competing at 9, right around the time I started going through early puberty. My mom loves to remind me how awkward and chubby I was during this time. Thanks, Mom!
After returning from a dance competition, our teacher made us listen to the feedback tapes. Judges would record their reactions and feedback into a cassette tape, providing it along with a score sheet.
“Some of these girls should not have their bellies showing. It’s not flattering.”
My best friend and I were the only non-skinny girls in the class, so my heart sank. And my teacher? She did not react well.
We were in trouble. I felt guilty. Ashamed. Suddenly hyper-aware of my body at way too young an age.
What followed was a years-long cycle of fat-shaming and verbal abuse.
Let’s add a stop in the time machine.
I’d find myself in the studio, shaking my teacher, yelling…
“Why would you make children listen to this?!”
“If you talk about their bodies, I’ll slap you!”
“Why are children’s dance costumes so weirdly sexualized anyway?!”
“Fuck off, you insecure psycho!”
My food and body memories were never happy ones.
Being berated by my dance teacher for having a bagel. Binge-eating when my mom was asleep. Not wearing shorts again until my 20s.
A few weeks ago, I decided to try Berberine, aka Nature’s Ozempic. I refuse to take semaglutide for many reasons but figured it wouldn’t hurt to take a supplement.
I was wrong; it hurt.
The detox phase was wild. Feverish for days, I stopped taking it. Then came a full-body itch, triggering a massive panic attack.
The shame and guilt kicked back in. Feeling like such a lazy piece of shit that I couldn’t just ✨do the work✨
One more stop on the time machine? I’d say to myself:
“Wtf is wrong with you, dumb bitch? You refuse to go on Ozempic or Weight Watchers because you’re trying to work on your mindset around food and eat intuitively, yet you took a supplement hoping for a quick fix. Aren’t you sick of your own shit by now? You should know better!”
Anyway, I don’t have many insights to share other than I am still fat. Fatter. The shaming and the great advice to “shut ya mouth” didn’t work! I’m sad and want to hug myself as a little girl. I’m embarrassed I wasn’t skinny for my wedding. I still feel guilty about every morsel I eat, and I hate looking in the mirror or at photos.
Diet starts Monday? (Jk. Kinda. We’ll see.)
"I’m embarrassed I wasn’t skinny for my wedding." Girl, SAME. I get a wave of shame every time I see someone post about "sweating for the wedding" or whatever. I remind myself that we are more interesting, and add more value to the world, than our size or how we looked on one day in one dress. But, I really get it. Lots of hugs!
I feel this on sooooo many levels!! I agonized for six hours last week before ordering Chinese food for dinner (mind you I got tofu, broccoli and white rice!). The damage done to us back then never goes away. Sending you love <3