Raw diets, no protein, master cleanses and other crazy things I have done in the pursuit of shedding pounds
American culture has made incredible strides to make body positivity a baseline for self-nurturing and mental wellness.
In Hispanic culture, fat shaming is still alive and well.
I don't think it is all that bad. It is the reason that even though I'm not in the best shape of my life right now, (raising two kids and all that jazz), I have also not let myself go completely.
Whenever I feel the pounds creeping into my waist or, more accurately, sliding over my belt, I start spiraling and panicking; I make rash decisions and histrionic announcements like, "No more sugar," "Sugar is poison," and "I wonder if someone in the history of the world has ever attempted a master cleanse at forty."
My mom, who always attempted to make her fat-shaming techniques musical, would pinch the fat from my abdomen and mimic the sound of a slide whistle—maybe alluding to how my belly was growing away from my body.
But fat-shaming wasn't only reserved for my mom's musical talents.
In Colombia, the saying wasn't, "It takes a village to raise a kid," it was, "It takes a village to fat-shame a kid."
My family's self-critical relationship with our bodies probably started with my grandfather's expectations.
When I was in my early teens, he would call my house, but before asking for my mom, he would ask me a simple question, "How much are you weighing?"
Then he would follow my answer with, "And remind me of your height."
He would go quiet for a few beats.
Once he calculated my body mass index, he would give me a sterile, "That's okay," if I was within normal ranges, or "And what kind of exercises are you doing?" If my BMI was slightly higher than where it needed to be
My grandpa would say that I needed to exercise more and then go over some of the exercises I might consider.
My grandpa's body shaming wasn't limited to my weight.
Another gems included, "Put lotion on your elbows," "Don't slouch because you look like a clothes hanger," and his all-time favorite, "Don't spend too much time in the sun."
To my grandpa's credit, he was not a hypocrite.
He followed his own advice.
He lived a block away from the Castillo Grande beach in Cartagena, and his daughters never saw him wear trunks.
If he would've wanted to, he could've set a Guinness World Record for palest, veiniest shins in the history of humanity.
What would happen if you, as a grandkid, spent too much time in the sun?
Well, then let me tell you about one of my sister's formative experiences.
My sister, Rosy, loved the beach, but with a skin color similar to mine, every day she spent under the beating equatorial sun of Barranquilla meant she would turn fifty shades of brown.
A kid should never have to worry about how their skin looks after doing something they love.
In the times when my grandfather grew up, it was important not to look too brown. When his granddaughter was born with a natural love for the beach, he would admonish her and tell her, "No pases tanto tiempo en el sol que pareces un lebranche." (Don't spend too much time in the sun that you look like a lebranche.)
A lebranche translates to a lebranche mullet, a seawater fish that looks white in the water but, once pulled out of the ocean, turns dark black.
To make matters worse, lebranche, also known as Liza, is considered one of the lowest-quality fish in the region. It is used in 'Arroz de Liza,' a rice sold inside a jerry-rigged, wooden wheelbarrow pulled by a man through the streets of bad neighborhoods in the city.
As harsh as that was, at least my grandfather never called her a "bagre" or "batracio," which translates to toad, and it is used to describe when someone is unfortunate enough to be born ugly.
You might be thinking that this was a tough way of living, but it is how we were raised, and we didn't know anything better.
It's like they say: the fish is not aware that he is in the ocean... the ocean being body-shaming, and the angler fish being my family.
I know body shaming is not okay.
I avoid doing it to my kids, and I'd probably strangle my mom dead on the spot if she ever tries to do it to them.
But it has been good for me.
I like to think of the positive things that came from my mom pinching my rolls and making kazoo noises while doing it.
The most salient one is an internalized drill sargeant that starts screaming at me whenever I feel like an avocado with its seed sticking out. In those moments, I know I need to get serious about finding my way back to healthy eating, so my mom doesn't get a chance to squeeze my dough.
For example, I hold an impressive personal record of eleven days on the Master Cleanse. This cleanse is also known as "The Lemonade Diet," because you are only allowed to drink a mixture of lemon, water, maple syrup, and cayenne pepper.
No other forms of solids or drinks besides water are permitted.
I'd typically go about my day, drive to work, go to school, hang out with friends, all while operating on water and lemon.
Most days, I was seeing double from hunger and should've never been allowed behind the wheel.
That's not the only thing I have done chasing belt notches.
I have been a vegetarian on and off for a period of seven years.
I told people it was about the animals, but really it was about looking good.
The pounds shed, and I looked great, but no one was able to appreciate it because I spent a lot of time indoors sleeping due to my lack of protein intake.
I even flirted with a raw diet once.
While planning our wedding, Justine and I decided we were going to eat our food raw and get closer to how the divine energy intended us to eat nutrients straight from the soil, so that we would be healthier than all our peers but, more importantly, thinner than them.
We got lasagna and Thai food made out of raw food. We were able to tell because of the label on the plastic containers and not because it resembled lasagna or any Thai dish that has ever existed.
Then before our wedding, we got massive diarrhea.
Twice.
On the one hand, our butts didn't feel great.
On the other, we have never looked thinner; even our clavicles were showing.
Talk about fashionable.
So say what you want about body shaming.
But you can't say it doesn't work.
My wedding pictures are there to show you that.
