I haven’t been exercising. I spent most of the weekend sitting or laying down. Sometimes I’d be breathing hard from the effort of sitting (compared to laying down). Sunday I was so exhausted I literally laid down and cried.
I’ve got a cold, which does not combine well with asthma. Plus I was helping run a small con, which meant quite a bit of adrenalin and the feeling that I “should” be walking around, checking in with our guests, seeing if other volunteers need help, and generally doing things.
You know the sort of “sick” where you feel fine as long as you don’t actually try to do things? Yeah, that was me, most of the weekend — at least, once I had enough pills / etc that I could breathe regularly and stop coughing.
Yes, I took my preventative meds. I also took time-release guaifenesin, supplemental antihistamines, and used my albuterol inhaler a lot. I helped coordinate volunteers, I ran the tech equipment that the other volunteers don’t know or aren’t as skilled with, I helped keep guests organized. I’m told a lot of folks didn’t realize I was sick.
And yet I feel I was a “bad fatty” because I spent a lot of time sitting. Because I collapsed with my computer Monday instead of helping carry a bunch of equipment. Because I didn’t get some borrowed equipment returned until Tuesday. Because I should be performing feats of strength to prove I have worth, or that I’m capable despite being fat, or something. Because only bad fats sit around all the time.
The idea that I should have to “prove” my body is okay is one I’d like to unlearn. My brain knows that attitude is insane. Unfortunately I’m not there yet, and it bugs me.
Update: I did intend this post to be about “Gee, even though I’m legitimately sick, I keep feeling guilty for not doing enough and wondering if people think badly of me because I’m fat. That’s screwed up.” Sorry if that didn’t come through.