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The Last Diet, by Keet Geniza
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2011.
[Image: Close-up picture of Keet, a nonbinary Filipinx. They have layered chin-length hair, bangs and rectangle-framed glasses.]
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For my graduation gift, my parents bought me a round trip ticket to accompany my dad on a visit to the Philippines. It was my first time to come back since migrating to Canada in 2006. I was excited, of course. I wanted to see my friends.
[Image: Keet on their laptop typing happily, “Hey pals I’m visiting in August!” Overhead throughout the panel, message bubbles contain happy, enthusiastic messages: “OMG YAY FINALLY I miss u! Can't wait 2 hang! Wow! Bring home chocolate! Woohoo!” Happy emojis, etc. ]
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But I was also filled with dread at the thought of visiting my family.
[Image: Keet slapping their laptop shut. A large thought bubble imagines heads of family members commenting on their body. “You've gotten fat!” “What have you been eating?!” “OMG you're so HUGE!” “When are you going to reduce?”]
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The trip was in August. I thought I'd spend the months before the trip losing weight. My parents were more than happy to support this, since they have tried (and failed) to make me lose weight many times since I was a kid.
[Image: Keet dragging their feet behind their parents on their way to the family clinic.]
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My family doctor recommended Dr. Bewn’s* Metabolic Diet, which was a low-carb, high protein meal plan designed based on the principles of ketosis. (*Name changed.)
[Image: Closeup of Dr. Bewn's diet book with his portrait and a pull-quote that says “I WILL HELP ONLY THOSE WHO HELP THEMSELVES -Dr. Billy B. Bewn”)
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Ketosis is the body's way of adapting metabolism to allow the body to survive famine. When food is not readily available, your body breaks down ketones, a type of fuel the liver produces from fat reserves in your body. Bears do it in hibernation. And, claims Dr. Bewn, bears manage just fine.
[Image: A bear stretched out with middle paw finger up saying “That's ‘coz I'm asleep, motherfucker!”]
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The main lure of the Bewn diet was that it was fast. In my head the threat of my family's fatphobia was dire enough. “The Bewn boon” claimed I could almost eat whatever I want (not true) and still have energy to do my tasks (also not true).
[Image: Plate of toast with jam and a mug of coffee on the side. There is whole wheat bread and an open jar of sugar-free jam behind it.]
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In truth, the Bewn Diet was a lean meat, no rice, half-salt, low-fat food plan with an allotted packet of Splenda per day to sweeten the deal. It had prescribed boring recipes which were an insult to my cooking ability. Not that I had much energy to cook anyway. I was often irritable and snappy.
[Image: Sibling asking “What’s for dinner?” and me furiously writing in my journal, answering “Fuck if I know. Same shit, I guess.”]
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My energy levels severely dropped. Before the diet, my brother and I often took a long walk after dinner. We stopped doing that, too.
[Image: Wide view of an empty sidewalk lined with trees and houses.]
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The program had weekly weigh-ins. We had to take our urine samples to be policed analysed for chemical content. I quickly grew to resent these weekly weigh-ins, even as they praised me for losing the *projected weight*. My hunger and hate coiled like twin snakes in my belly.
[Image: Person with a clipboard saying “270 pounds! That’s and 8-pound drop from last Week! Good job!” Keet is on the weighing scale with a rueful expression, thinking of Death in a thought bubble.]
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One thing I was secretly glad about was my double chin disappearing. I could see angles on my face. My so-called family cheekbones. I took a lot of selfies. But the glimmer of being pretty was so fleeting that chasing it preoccupied a lot of my time.
[Image: Keet doing an array of selfie poses.]
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I was rarely content with how these selfies turned out. There was just always one more thing missing, or wrong. After a selfie session, I often felt exhausted, hungry and obsessed.
[Image: Keet on their stomach, swiping through phone. Overhead, thought bubbles say self-critical things like: “Oh ew my chin! Why are my eyes wonky? My hair’s too flat on one side! UGH, all of these suck!”]
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On top of all that, I felt my brain was split. That I was always at odds with myself.
Before I undertook the Bewn Diet, I was already reading a lot of blogs, zines and articles about Fat Liberation. I recognized my struggles in their stories and derived comfort and support from that.
Knowing the systemic violence against fat people that perpetuates itself in all aspects of society, it was really hard to justify this diet. It felt like I was playing into my own oppression.
I knew I was hurting myself.
But a huge, huge part of me just wanted my family to shut the fuck up.
I’m only doing this to protect myself from them.
That’s how fucked up my diet brain was. To think annihilation and self-destruction through starvation was my way out even as I knew their approval was a moving target.
[Image: Full page of 2011 Keet curled up in bed in tank top and skivvies, with glasses lying beside them.]
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One weigh-in, I snapped. I and was curt with the receptionist and walked out of the clinic mid-consultation. My mom got mad at me for being rude.
[Image: Keet on the foreground crying. Mother in the background, saying “Is that how I raised you? What the hell is your problem?”
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Already starving and sad, I felt a tug of rage as I never had before, an unstoppered plug that contained ancient pain all the way from childhood.
[Image: Keet turning their face with a furious expression at their mother, who has an exclamation point over her head.]
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I screamed and cried in the car all the way home.
[Image: Keet and their mother in the car. Mother frozen with hands on the steering wheel. Keet screaming and crying, a large speech balloon with forceful, gestural curlicues dominating the panel. ]
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We didn’t go back. We never talked about it at all. But after that day she never forced me into a diet or made a lot of comments about my body again.
[Image: Clinic exterior with the sign “Dr. Bewn NutriClinic”. There are cars parked outside.]
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I still kept at it, though, until it was time to leave for the trip. My relatives were another matter.
[Image: Keet eating a bowl of soup.]
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But when we arrived, I didn’t hear a peep about my body at all. Looking back, my parents probably said something to them. Why couldn’t they have done so when I was a kid?
[Image: Keet warily looking at their relatives gathered at the dining table. Someone's saying, “Let's eat!” at the head of the table.]
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The answer to that's easy enough—my parents were steeped in the same fatphobic ideas as my extended family, so they never thought it was wrong. Even I had to reorient my view of my fat body as a valid vessel of worth and love. A body worth fighting for. It’s an ongoing process.
[Image: A random saying, “Hey Preggo Lady, when are you due?” and Keet saying with their tongue stuck out, “Tomorrow, asshole.”]
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When I returned from my trip, I also returned to eating the way I ate. Of course, I gained back all the weight I lost, and then some. But I never went on a diet again, not even when I went back to visit Manila a couple more times. I only had to remember my anger and connect with it in more constructive ways.
[Image: Relative saying, “You know, you were in better shape before. Thinner.” 2016 Keet with butch haircut and arms crossed, retorting “But that wasn't what you're saying all those times before–when will it all end, huh?”]
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Ever since, I also turned my focus to drawing self-portraits. I drew one every month. For me, a concentrated self-portrait session is an integral part of my art practice. It’s a process of self-acceptance, of truly looking at myself and recording who I am at the moment as well as I can.
[Image: Montage of self-portraits over the years.]
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My double chin got fat again. It pleased me to draw it in.
[Image: 2021 Keet drawing a current self-portrait on their work desk.]
END.
