She laughs as she tells me she almost died five years ago.  She put her affairs in order and had a custom coffin made, after all they don’t make coffins big enough for her fat body.  She grins as she tells me her beautiful coffin is now sitting in a garage, gathering dust.  She wanted to use it as a trunk in her nursing home, but it wouldn’t fit.  I want to talk about sexuality, how the fat power movement she started has changed over the years.  She wants to talk about the medical industry.  Today I yield to her wishes and think seriously about health, what it means and how I struggle to locate myself within its discourse.

Health in not about healthy bodies.  It is an industry turning a five billion dollar profit a year- producing pills and shakes in an effort to create superhuman bodies.  Bodies without defect.  Bodies that might glow in the dark they are so artificial- articficially healthy and vitamined out.  Bodies that are so morphed they might survive nuclear fallout.

Health is a store full of color coordinated jogging suites- tight on the body and made for people who are already in shape…who would wear all that spandex on their saggy baggy body?  Health is narrow running shoes designed by Nike…cute but not made to support over 150 pounds of woman.  Health is a gym full of mirrors because who wouldn’t want to watch themselves push their bodies. ...