From the Houston Chronicle comes a disturbing three-part series, which illustrates the sad, depressing consequences the anti-obesity hysteria has on our children.
Isabel Hernandez didn’t want to start her freshman year at Katy’s Morton Ranch High School the same way she had left middle school: barely 5 feet tall and nearly 180 pounds, begins the article. The series that follows chronicles Isabel’s experiences at a fat camp and her efforts to lose weight.
Part One: Weight-loss camp brings hope of a new life for Katy teen
Part Two: Katy teen inching toward weight-loss goal
Part Three: Transformed teen has a new challenge — high school
The series is laden with heartbreaking and arresting consequences wrought by this anti-obesity pinnacle. I’ve tried to pinpoint each in detail below:
We want your money, but not your fat self.
The first article begins with a shopping trip Isabel’s mother credits as the impetus for Isabel’s ensuing weight loss. It’s an experience which might sound all-too-familiar to those who are or have ever been overweight.
Shopping at The Gap brought 14-year-old Isabel to tears, because the store carried no sizes above a size 12. Isabel’s mother said she had to start ordering her daughter’s clothes over the internet – where The Gap and other name brands do offer plus-size clothing.
Stores like The Gap, and most recently Old Navy, relegate plus-size clothing to the hinterlands of the internet because, while they don’t necessarily want fat people in their stores, they still want our money. It’s all about image for these yuppie brands – fatness connotes both a lower class status and is socially unfashionable.
But perhaps because 60 percent of Americans are obese, the stores’ bottom line demands they still offer plus-size lines. So they do – only they offer it online, where fat people can’t be seen disgracing and degrading the carefully-crafted image of their stores.
What’s the cost of this blatant exclusion? It’s teenagers like Isabel, who are to feel like social pariahs because of their double-digit size.
Thinness has no cost
The first series shows a reluctant Isabel, who despite her mother’s urging, clearly does not want to go to fat camp. In fact, when a camp representative e-mailed her encouraging her to reconsider her decision, she responded in 36-point, red font: “Stop Sending My Mom This Crap.”
“I just didn’t want to go,” Isabel explained later. “I was just tired of everyone talking about my weight and stuff and I was like ‘OK, shut up. I have heard you enough.’ ”
Despite Isabel’s plaintive pleas to stop putting the focus on her weight, both her mother and grandmother resorted to another tactic: bribery. Her grandmother offered to pay her $100 if she would lose 20 pounds and her mother promised a $1,000 shopping spree. And after she finally agreed to go, Isabel’s mother had to work overtime for six months to pay the eight-week fat camp’s hefty $8,650 price tag (cost for 4 weeks attendance is a measly $6,350).
I’m sure both the mother and grandmother acted well-intentionally and that they love Isabel. But the underlying message received by Isabel is that her body is abnormal and that not only is weight loss necessary, it’s imperative. So much so, in fact, that her family is willing to go to any length – no matter the cost - to ensure she becomes thin.
“Healthy” obsessions
The third article in the series details Isabel’s final days at Camp Wellspring, part of a franchise of weight-loss programs marketed under the name Healthy Living Academies. Just four weeks into her weight-week stint at camp, Isabel was nearly kicked out, reports the article.
Her devastating crime? Kissing a boy.
Apparently, both violence and romance are forbidden at the camp. Either offense are considered distractions from the task at hand – losing weight. It’s all part of what camp leaders say is the camp’s goal in installing a “healthy obsession” in teenagers like Isabel.
The constant measuring, weighing, counting and account for food. Keeping a food journal detailing your every thought and mood that accompanies each morsel of food. Daily weigh-ins with victories marked by the downward slide of the scale. The basing of one’s self-worth on who they might become, instead of who they actually are. Weight loss before friendships, before love, before all else.
And they call this a “healthy” obsession? It sounds a lot like my life when I had an eating disorder. What happens when the “healthy obsession” the camp instills in these teens turns into an “unhealthy obsession,” as such an inordinate focus on food and weight-loss is bound to do?
Happiness isn’t found in The Gap
The title of the first article in the series - Weight-loss camp brings hope of a new life for Katy teen - seems to belie the reality Isabel faces upon her home return. Sure Isabel now has a new life as a thin person, but what kind of quality life is it?
Because she can’t find low-fat mayonnaise, Isabel “ditched lunch entirely and, annoyed, went to bed. At the movies with her friends the next weekend, she’d passed the Blue Bell ice cream store and flinched.”
The friends she saw said little about her physical change. One girl gushed. But others, Isabel had to remind. …But they noticed when she declined free Skittles from the upperclassmen and, later, when she skipped the pizza lunch.
Walking with friends toward the boxes of Pizza Inn pepperoni and cheese, Isabel hesitated, clutching the Strawberry Shortcake lunch bag she’d packed.
“I’ll just sit over here and wait for you,” she told a group of her mostly gangly friends.
“You can’t just eat pizza?” one of the girls asked.
Isabel shook her head — and headed off alone to find a seat.
Alone. Isolated. Different. But at least Isabel can shop at The Gap.