Happy and carefree as a child: Susannah aged three in 1971Īnd an 'underweight' person is hardly going to be castigated by their GP for 'burdening' the NHS. Those deemed overweight, with a BMI of 25-30, which includes my BMI, are actually protected against a range of cancers and death from cancer more than those in the 'healthy weight' category of BMI 18-25.īut, of course, medics won't put any of this in flashing lights. This means those who are very fat, with a BMI of over 35 (what is called Obese 2) and very thin, with a BMI of under 18, are statistically both as likely to get cancer.
Indeed, if you go into the detail of the reports on which last week's stories were based, the highest rates of cancer mortality are actually at both extreme ends of BMI.
And two: being a bit hefty doesn't automatically mean you are unhealthy. One: fat-shaming like this never makes anyone lose weight. Pure fury at my doctor and the biased medics behind these reports who refuse to accept two simple, demonstrable facts. When my initial shame had died down, however, I was overwhelmed by a different emotion: rage. So at BMI 29 I would be classed as 'overweight' but at BMI 30 I have risen into the 'obese' category. Or when, as happened last week, I read that being overweight increases the risk of developing womb cancer, so it's even more important to 'maintain a healthy weight by eating a balanced diet and staying active'.Īs Edina says to a lecturing Saffy in Absolutely Fabulous, 'But sweetie, if it were that easy, everyone would be doing it.' There's more.Įxperts insist that by fractionally tipping over the famously sharp edge of the Body Mass Index (BMI) categories from overweight into obese, I have instantly increased my risk of womb cancer by 88 per cent.Īccording to the 170-year-old BMI system, I have a 29.54 rating, which medics tend to round up to 30. Or when my mother compliments me on losing more than half a stone when I've had Covid for two weeks, haven't eaten and feel like death. I say 'most of the time'.īecause sometimes, my confidence falters - such as when a sprained ankle is blamed on me being fat.
Most of the time, I am confident in my own skin and proud of my body. I can run for the bus and keep up with my fellow gym-goers. But while my figure certainly has overhangs - I am a mother of two, after all, now aged 20 and 18 - there are no avalanches. 'Doctors must stop trying to shame us into losing weight - not for trendy inclusive reasons but because focusing on weight simply doesn't work,' says Susannah JowittĪged 53, at 5ft7in tall and with a dress size that slides between 14 and 18, it's evident that I am perfectly normally, averagely, girl-next-door-ishly fat. Let me be clear: I am under no illusions about my weight. Has he not listened to my injury history? Why did he weigh me at all? Doesn't he see that I'm in gym kit and have actually been exercising?ĭid he really just offer me drugs? Yes, because he is utterly blinkered by my obesity. In the meantime, I can offer you some appetite suppressants and suggest a possible regime for you.' To avoid this sort of injury in future, you need to lose weight and get more active. Otherwise you'll be a burden on the NHS. 'Oh dear,' he then says. We peer down at the needle hovering well past the 13st mark. 'Hmmm,' says the GP. 'Why don't you just hop on the scales and we'll have a look?' Seeing a friend outside, I waved - and promptly tripped over the kerb, going over on my ankle and ending up sprawled at his feet.Īn hour later, I am in the doctor's surgery with a suspected sprain.Īs I have more than 50 years of clumsiness under my belt, thanks to a lack of physical co-ordination caused by my mild dyspraxia and hypermobility - where joints bend too far - this is just the latest in a string of painful twists.īut today's diagnosis will include something new. That morning, I'd left my high-octane CrossFit gym class in South London with a bounce in my step. Standing like a flamingo on one leg, I feel a throbbing pain in my swollen ankle.īut even more excruciating is the hot stab of shame as I realise what my doctor has just said to me.