Category: Health & Wellness

If you’re like me, you probably thought by now some of the biggest challenges in women’s health would have been solved. Yet here we are—still talking about the same things. Honestly? I think this topic might always be on repeat. But for plus-size women, it feels a little louder, a little messier, and a lot more persistent.

And if you know me, you know I’ve already overthought this topic… probably argued with three imaginary people about it in my head… and maybe even stitched a little “fix the world” message into my latest crochet project while thinking it through. That’s just how my brain works.

Healthcare Bias: Still Alive and Kicking

Let’s start with the obvious. Weight bias in healthcare is real. It’s that feeling you get when your doctor immediately assumes every symptom is about your size—or worse, when your concerns are dismissed entirely.

I’ve had enough experiences (and overanalyzed them repeatedly, of course) to know that plus-size women often have to fight twice as hard for proper care:

• Symptoms ignored or misattributed
• Treatments offered without nuance
• Judgments tucked into questions like “Have you tried losing weight?”

It’s exhausting—and it’s unacceptable. But it’s reality we still have to name, and honestly, probably will keep naming until the system catches up.

Mental Health: A Double Whammy

Now let’s talk about the mental load. For plus-size women, mental health challenges are often compounded by societal judgment. Anxiety, stress, and depression can come from real-life pressures—and the constant messaging that we “should” look different.

I overthink. I plan. I argue with strangers in my head. And somehow, that also translates into worrying about everyone else’s expectations while trying to keep myself sane.

Tips I’ve learned that actually help (even if I argue about them internally first):

• Journaling your thoughts—even the messy, overcomplicated ones
• Creative outlets like crochet or embroidery to calm the mind
• Saying “no” to things that drain energy—without guilt
• Connecting with people who get it (even if it’s just online)

Your mental health is part of your health. Full stop.

Fitness Without Shame (or Mirrors)

Exercise is essential, yes—but the culture around it often feels like it’s built for someone else’s body. Gyms, classes, and even YouTube videos frequently make plus-size women feel unwelcome.

Here’s my approach:

• Move because it feels good, not because you feel guilty
• Dance around your living room like no one’s watching (bonus: no mirrors required)
• Walk your dog, chase your grandkids, or lift something heavy—honestly, that counts

It’s about showing up for your body in a way that’s sustainable, not humiliating.

Nutrition: Forget the Shame, Focus on Fuel

Diet culture is loud and exhausting. For plus-size women, it often translates into unnecessary guilt or advice that isn’t helpful.

Here’s my overthinker-approved method:

• Eat what fuels you, not what shames you
• Include vegetables, protein, healthy fats, and yes… even treats
• Listen to your hunger and fullness cues, not a number on a scale

Your health is about strength, energy, and living fully—not about punishing yourself for the body you already have.

Access and Equipment: Still Not Standard

This one might surprise people. Many clinics, hospitals, and even fitness spaces aren’t equipped to accommodate plus-size bodies comfortably. Chairs, exam tables, or blood pressure cuffs that don’t fit may seem small, but they matter.

It’s a reminder that the systems we rely on still need updating—and we, plus-size women, are often the ones reminding them to get it right.

Why We’ll Keep Talking About This

Here’s the truth: plus-size women’s health challenges are ongoing, and we’ll likely keep revisiting them. The bias exists. Access is uneven. Fitness culture can be exclusive. Mental health struggles are real. And diet culture? Don’t even get me started.

This is a topic that will probably always be on repeat—but that doesn’t mean it’s hopeless. The more we talk about it, the more we advocate, the more visible we are, the closer we get to real change.

Final Thoughts: Health, Respect, and a Little Humor

Being a plus-size woman shouldn’t make health complicated—or judgmental. Yes, there are challenges. Yes, society has some catching up to do. But here’s what I know:

• Our health matters.
• Our mental health matters.
• Our bodies deserve respect, care, and movement that makes us feel good.
• And sometimes, saving the world looks like crocheting a blanket while thinking about policies, care access, and self-love all at the same time.

We’ll probably keep revisiting these challenges, but that’s okay. Awareness, advocacy, and humor are all part of the superpower we bring to the table.

I’ve lived most of my adult life in the uncomfortable intersection of womanhood and size. Every doctor’s appointment, every lab test, every routine checkup carries with it a quiet but unmistakable message: “Until I’m skinny enough, my health concerns aren’t serious.” And if I’m being honest, that message has shaped not just how I feel about my body, but how I feel about seeking care at all.

Walking into a medical office as a plus-size woman is like stepping onto a stage where I’ve already been judged. Before a single symptom is addressed, I know that assumptions will be made, advice will be given, and my experiences will be filtered through the lens of my size. And after years of this, the anxiety it breeds has become almost unbearable.

Every Visit Starts the Same Way

It doesn’t matter what issue brings me into the office. A lingering ache in my knees? Fatigue that never lifts? Digestive issues? Even these can’t escape the gravitational pull of weight bias. I’ve been told, more times than I can count, that if I just lost weight, all my problems would disappear. Sometimes this comes gently, sometimes as a directive. Either way, the effect is the same: my symptoms are diminished, my experiences dismissed, my body blamed before my voice is heard.

And it’s exhausting. The mental preparation for each visit, the internal debate about whether it’s “worth it” to face judgment again, has caused me to avoid care altogether at times. The fear of walking into that room, of being met with assumptions and subtle condescension, is overwhelming.

The Mental Health Toll

Living under this constant scrutiny has affected more than my physical health. It has chipped away at my mental well-being. I feel an underlying anxiety every time I think about needing medical care. It’s a strange mix of fear, frustration, and self-doubt. I question whether my concerns are valid enough to raise, whether my body is “worthy” of attention, and whether seeking help will simply lead to judgment.

This anxiety doesn’t stay at the clinic door. It follows me home. It colors the way I think about my body, my health, and even my daily choices. When the system that’s supposed to protect you starts to feel like a threat, it’s impossible not to feel vulnerable, powerless, and alone.

Health Shouldn’t Be Conditional

The cruel irony is that weight does not define wellness. Conditions like thyroid disorders, diabetes, polycystic ovary syndrome, cardiovascular issues, and even chronic fatigue affect women of all sizes. Yet, for plus-size women, the default explanation is always the same: your weight is the problem.

This approach isn’t just dismissive—it’s dangerous. When doctors focus on size rather than symptoms, testing is delayed, treatment is postponed, and serious health issues can go unnoticed. Preventive screenings, which could save lives, are sometimes avoided or inadequately administered because equipment or assumptions fail to accommodate larger bodies. Health should not be a reward for shrinking. It should be a right, available to all, right now.

The Emotional Labor of Advocacy

Over the years, I’ve had to become my own advocate in a system that often feels designed to overlook me. I’ve learned to ask questions, insist on tests, and push for proper evaluation. I’ve had to insist that my symptoms are legitimate and that my health matters. But the emotional labor required for this is immense. Every visit takes energy, courage, and mental fortitude—energy I wish I could spend on healing instead of defending my existence.

I know I’m not alone in this. Thousands of plus-size women navigate the same bias daily, negotiating a healthcare system that seems to care more about the size of our bodies than the complexity of our symptoms. This isn’t about vanity. It’s about survival, dignity, and justice.

Reframing What Health Means

I’ve had to reframe my understanding of health and self-worth. Health is not a number on a scale. It is function, wellness, emotional resilience, and the ability to live a fulfilling life. My body deserves care not because it meets societal standards, but because it is mine—and because I am worthy of attention, compassion, and respect.

Even when the system fails, I’ve learned to advocate, speak out, and refuse to internalize blame. I’ve connected with supportive providers, therapists, and communities that understand size-inclusive care. I’ve discovered that acknowledging my worth is a radical act in a world that too often equates thinness with legitimacy.

Moving Toward Change

Change will not happen overnight, but it starts with awareness. Healthcare professionals must confront their biases, listen without judgment, and provide care that is evidence-based rather than assumption-driven. Clinics need equipment, resources, and protocols that accommodate all bodies.

And patients like me must continue to advocate—not just for ourselves, but for every woman who has felt invisible or dismissed. By sharing our experiences, by insisting on proper treatment, and by refusing to let our health be conditional, we can challenge the harmful systems that have persisted for far too long.

Conclusion: Health Without Conditions

For decades, I’ve faced the implicit message: “Until you’re skinny enough, your health concerns don’t matter.” But I refuse to believe that my size determines my right to care. Every woman deserves treatment, compassion, and attention—without judgment, without delay, and without preconditions.

We deserve to walk into a clinic and know our voices will be heard, our concerns validated, and our bodies respected. Until that becomes the standard, we continue to share our stories, advocate fiercely, and demand a healthcare system that sees us—exactly as we are.

Because health should never be conditional. It should always be a right.

I’m in year three of menopause madness, and let me tell you—it’s like my body staged a hostile takeover and forgot to leave a welcome mat.

It’s not fun.
It’s not helpful.
It’s not easy.

I’m hot. I’m emotional. I’m forgetful. I’m irritated… a lot. I’m pretty sure I’m not alone—somewhere out there, another woman is fanning herself while crying over lost car keys or screaming at the dog for no reason.

I’ve survived—or at least fought back—against the top five menopause symptoms. Sometimes my weapon of choice is chocolate. Sometimes it’s prayer. Sometimes it’s sheer stubbornness. And yes, sometimes I combine all three and call it a victory. Here’s how I’ve been slaying the beast… or at least beating her back when I need a chocolate bribe.

1. Hot Flashes: Spontaneous Combustion Happens

Hot flashes hit without warning. One second I’m sitting calmly, the next I feel like I’ve been microwaved alive. If spontaneous combustion were real, menopause would be the poster child.

I’ve wrestled with family members over the thermostat, cursed summer in every language I know, and considered moving to Antarctica.

Here’s my arsenal:

• Cold water—I drink it like it’s an Olympic sport.
  
• Light clothing—tanks, tees, and occasionally the tiniest whisper of dignity.
  
• Fans—my ceiling fan runs 24/7 in high gear, and I’m not apologizing.
  
• Cool showers—especially before bed. They save my sanity and my sheets.
  
• Cornstarch powder—sounds bizarre, works miracles. Moisture doesn’t stand a chance.
  

“A gentle answer turns away wrath.” — Proverbs 15:1
Especially when someone dares touch the thermostat.

2. Emotional Rollercoaster: Cry, Rage, Laugh (All Before Breakfast)

Menopause hits like a silent scream that won’t quit. I cry, rage, and laugh—all before breakfast. Everything irritates me. Nothing feels right. The smallest frustrations feel like full-blown betrayals. Midlife crisis? More like menopause crisis.

Here’s how I survive the emotional chaos:

• Take it to God. Ugly tears, loud prayers, honest hearts—it works.
  
• Keep perspective. Bad moment ≠ bad life.
  
• Laugh. Blogs, memes, articles written by other menopausal women remind me I’m not alone… just hormonally enhanced.
  
• Talk to family. I lean on my sisters—they get it, and their patience is saintly.
  

“Cast all your anxiety on Him because He cares for you.” — 1 Peter 5:7
“Weeping may last through the night, but joy comes in the morning.” — Psalm 30:5

3. Brain Fog: Hide-and-Seek With Your Own Thoughts

My brain plays hide-and-seek and never tells me when it’s done. I used to feel sharp, clear, unstoppable. Now, words vanish mid-sentence. Thoughts hide in corners. I forget things I know I know. I once spent ten minutes looking for my glasses… while they were on my head.

Here’s what keeps me functional:

• Stay calm. Panicking only thickens the fog.
  
• Journal. Capture fleeting thoughts before menopause claims them forever.
  
• Use a calendar. If it’s important, ink it in. No exceptions.
  

“God is not the author of confusion, but of peace.” — 1 Corinthians 14:33
“If any of you lacks wisdom, ask God.” — James 1:5

4. Weight Gain: My Body Went Rogue

I’ve always had a waist, plus-size or not. Then menopause hit. Now my hourglass has morphed into a more… grape-like shape. Nobody seems to make clothes for it. And jeans? Don’t get me started.

How I cope:

• Grace first. Often served with chocolate or pasta, because boundaries exist but chocolate is essential.
  
• Hydrate. Water, water, water—even when it’s freezing outside.
  
• Vegetables. I’m trying for one with every meal. So far, I’ve succeeded… sometimes.
  
• Movement. 2026 is my “get up and move” year. Walk, stretch, repeat. Hopefully, sweat and chocolate can coexist.
  

“Man looks at outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart.” — 1 Samuel 16:7
“My body is a temple of the Holy Spirit.” — 1 Corinthians 6:19
(A well-loved, well-used temple.)

5. Aches and Pains: Menopause or Impending Doom?

Every twinge brings panic: menopause or urgent care? My knees, hips, and back like to remind me they’re aging gracefully—or maybe just testing my patience.

Here’s what I’ve learned:

• Ignore Dr. Google. Doom and gloom are one search away.
  
• Find a doctor who listens. They’re rare, but worth the hunt.
  
• Rest and movement. Yes, both. Balance is key.
  

“He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.” — Psalm 147:3

A Few Final Weapons

Some medications help women survive menopause. If you trust your doctor, follow their guidance. I take a more holistic path, leaning on family, humor, and chocolate when necessary.

My family’s patience and love deserve medals. I hope to repay them someday, but for now, they help me survive this beast.

Most importantly, give yourself grace. Communicate. Ask for help. Celebrate small victories. Grieve the season ending, and make room for the next.

“There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens.” — Ecclesiastes 3:1

Menopause is wild. It’s weird. It’s exhausting. It’s annoying.

But light exists at the end of the hot-flash tunnel. And someday—gasp!—growing old gracefully might actually feel good. Chocolate optional, but highly recommended.

Everywhere I look—online, in comment sections, in “art,” in think pieces, in endless rants—I see fear dressing itself up as righteousness and anger masquerading as concern for the world.

People claim they’re terrified about the state of things. They say their mental health suffers. They say they feel overwhelmed, exhausted, and anxious.

And then they point fingers. They blame this political party. Or that one. Conservatives. Liberals. “The other side.” Labels fly around like paper at a ticket tape parade.

Outrage as Performance

They post nonstop. They wield their talents not to clarify, calm, or illuminate—but to shout, insult, mock, and divide. They call it “speaking out,” but it functions as little more than venting rage. They share half-stories without context, half-truths without accountability, opinions soaked in fear and contempt.

And then they say, “let’s just be kind.”

If you agree with them, you join the misery club. If you don’t, they shame you, attack you, and label you.

Let’s be honest: this isn’t about justice. It’s about outrage addiction. And it’s exhausting.

Politics as a False Foundation

Here’s the hard truth people resist: they feel miserable, angry, and fearful because they put their hope in politics—and politics will always fail them.

I want to be very clear: I haven’t celebrated every election outcome. I haven’t always liked who got elected. I’ve worried about policies, priorities, and leadership.

But here’s what I did differently:

• I didn’t let fear control my life.
  
• I didn’t let anger consume my witness.
  
• I didn’t weaponize my art, my voice, or my platform.
  

Why? Because of Jesus.

Taking My Anxiety to God

When President Biden took office, he wasn’t my choice. I admit I spiraled—I read article after article, obsessed over policies I disagreed with, feared where our country was headed.

I felt anxious. Frustrated. Afraid.

Then one day, while walking, I brought it all to God—not to social media, not to comment sections, not to people who might validate my emotions. I went straight to God.

And in that quiet moment, God spoke clearly:

“Vikki, why are you fearful? I am still God. I am still on the throne. You have two jobs: put ALL your faith in Me, and pray for those in power.”

It wasn’t gentle. It was corrective. And it hit hard.

Trusting God, Not Politics

God didn’t ask who I voted for. He didn’t ask if I agreed with every policy. He didn’t ask me to fret over the future. He reminded me who He is.

So I obeyed. I prayed for my president—whether I liked him or not, whether I agreed with him or not, whether I trusted his decisions or not.

Because my trust never belonged in a person or party. My trust always belongs in God.

Once I embraced that truth, fear lost its grip. I knew God had me if taxes rose, if policies passed against my values, if the cost of living increased, if the world felt unstable. God had me then. God has me now. God will always have me.

Life Without Jesus Leaves Fear in Charge

That is not denial. That is faith.

Here’s a truth many resist: the problem isn’t who sits in the Oval Office. The problem is trying to navigate a broken world without Jesus. Life without Him will always feel overwhelming, unstable, and produce fear, anger, and despair—no matter which party holds power.

If your peace rises and falls with election results, your foundation is wrong.
If your joy disappears every four years, your hope is misplaced.
If your mental health collapses whenever a politician speaks, politics has become your god.

Presidents will fail you. Governments will disappoint you. Policies will change. Leaders will lie. Power will shift.

But Jesus Christ remains on the throne.

True Peace Comes from Jesus

He ruled before any president. He rules before any political party. He will rule long after every name we argue over fades into history.

True peace does not depend on the right candidate winning. True security does not depend on the right laws being passed. True fulfillment does not depend on shouting louder than the other side.

It comes from knowing Jesus. Everything else will eventually let you down.

And that’s not political commentary—that’s eternal truth.

This morning, I went to the doctor for a routine yearly physical. Nothing dramatic. No flashing red warning lights about my health. Just the usual annual check-in that responsible adults schedule so we can pretend we have our lives together.

I arrived on time.

Actually, I arrived early—because that’s what responsible adults do. We show up ten minutes early, clutch our insurance card, scroll our phones, and mentally rehearse how to explain that weird pain in our shoulder that only shows up when we sneeze while holding a coffee mug.

And then we wait.

Thirty minutes, to be exact.

Now, let me be clear: thirty minutes is not the end of the world. I realize doctors run behind. Emergencies happen. Appointments take longer than expected. I understand the logistics.

But while I sat there, staring at the same outdated magazine about Mediterranean diets and “10 Ways to Tone Your Core,” my brain started doing what brains do best.

It started thinking.

And what I kept coming back to was this: how are we still this far behind when it comes to women’s health in 2026?

Because once I finally got called back and the appointment actually began, the conversation went exactly where it always goes.

My weight.

When Every Conversation Comes Back to the Scale

Let me start by saying something obvious.

I’m overweight.

I know it. My scale knows it. My doctor knows it. The jeans in the back of my closet that I keep hoping will magically fit again definitely know it.

I could probably stand to lose fifty pounds. Maybe more.

But here’s the part that frustrates me: I have never had a medical conversation that didn’t eventually circle back to my weight.

Not once.

When I’m sick, we talk about my weight.

When I’m healthy, we talk about my weight.

When I ask a question about something unrelated—my joints, my sleep, my headaches, menopause symptoms—the conversation eventually loops right back around.

Weight.

It’s like every road in women’s healthcare leads to the same destination.

And this morning was no exception.

Good Numbers, Same Conclusion

Here’s the ironic part.

My numbers are good.

My blood pressure is good. My labs come back normal. My cholesterol behaves itself. Nothing in my chart screams emergency.

Yet despite all that, the recommendation remains the same.

Weight loss medication.

Diabetes medication “as prevention.”

Weight loss surgery.

Those suggestions come up again and again, even when the tests don’t actually point in that direction.

Now, let me clarify something important: there is nothing wrong with those treatments. For many people, they are life-changing and necessary.

But when they become the only conversation?

That’s when the problem begins.

Because eventually you start wondering whether anyone is listening to anything else you’re saying.

Are Women’s Bodies Still a Medical Mystery?

Maybe I’m wrong about this. Maybe it’s unfair to say it.

But sometimes it feels like men’s healthcare has progressed further than women’s.

Maybe that’s not because men’s bodies are simpler.

Maybe it’s because for decades medical research focused more heavily on men.

Historically, clinical trials often excluded women because researchers believed hormones would “complicate the data.” As a result, huge portions of modern medicine developed using male bodies as the default template.

Even today, many conditions affect women differently. Symptoms present differently. Pain gets interpreted differently.

And yet we still find ourselves in exam rooms explaining the same things over and over.

Or worse, being told the same solution regardless of the question.

The Family Tree of “Short and Fluffy”

Another thing doctors don’t always account for is genetics.

There’s not really a thin woman in my family.

We weren’t built that way.

My family tree is full of women who are strong, short, and—let’s call it what it is—fluffy.

We’re sturdy. Solid. Built like we could carry groceries, grandkids, and emotional baggage all at the same time.

Could we all benefit from healthier habits? Sure. Who couldn’t?

But there’s a difference between encouraging healthy lifestyle changes and reducing someone’s entire medical experience to a number on a scale.

Because weight alone doesn’t tell the full story of a human body.

And yet far too often, it becomes the only story doctors read.

The Anxiety Nobody Talks About

Here’s something I realized this morning while getting ready for my appointment.

I have developed anxiety about going to the doctor.

Not panic attacks. Not anything debilitating.

Just that quiet, persistent dread.

The kind where you already know how the conversation will go before you even walk through the door.

I know the moment I step on the scale.

I know the look.

I know the notes that will get typed into the computer.

And I know the conclusion waiting at the end of the appointment.

“Lose weight and come back in six months.”

That’s it.

Conversation over.

When the Investigation Ends Too Soon

Here’s the real problem with that approach.

It stops the investigation.

Sometimes I have aches and pains. Nothing severe. Just the random annoyances that come with getting older and possibly entering the rollercoaster known as menopause.

But when I bring them up, the conversation often stops before it really begins.

“You probably wouldn’t have that pain if you lost some weight.”

Maybe that’s true.

But maybe it’s not.

Maybe there’s inflammation. Maybe there’s arthritis. Maybe there’s something hormonal happening that deserves attention.

Yet the moment the weight explanation appears, the curiosity disappears.

And curiosity is supposed to be the heart of good medicine.

The Shame Cycle That Helps No One

Ironically, the constant focus on weight doesn’t always motivate change.

Sometimes it does the exact opposite.

The guilt creeps in.

The shame follows right behind it.

You leave the appointment feeling like you failed a test you didn’t even know you were taking.

Then six months pass.

You didn’t lose the weight.

The pain still exists.

And now your mental health feels worse than it did before the appointment.

So you go back, bracing yourself for the same conversation again.

Round and round it goes.

The Myth That Fat People Caused Healthcare Costs

At some point in my life, someone actually said this to my face:

“You know, people being overweight are the main reason healthcare is so expensive.”

Apparently, I personally destroyed the American healthcare system by enjoying bread.

The wild part is that statement usually comes from people who know nothing about my health history.

They don’t know my labs.

They don’t know my lifestyle.

They don’t know my genetics.

They just see a body and make a judgment.

And unfortunately, sometimes that same judgment slips into medical spaces too.

A Simple Request: Listen

Let me be clear about something.

I am not asking doctors to ignore weight.

Weight absolutely can affect health. It would be ridiculous to pretend otherwise.

But it should not be the only lens through which my health gets evaluated.

Because bodies are complex.

Pain has causes.

Hormones fluctuate.

Joints wear down.

And sometimes symptoms deserve investigation even if the patient happens to be overweight.

The Truth That Needs to Be Said

So let me say this clearly enough for the people in the back.

Fat women deserve proper healthcare.

We deserve to be heard.

We deserve real conversations, not automatic conclusions.

We deserve tests that search for root causes instead of assumptions that stop the investigation.

We deserve doctors who see a whole human being, not just a number blinking on a scale.

A Better Future for Women’s Healthcare

Women’s health has come a long way, but clearly we still have work to do.

We need more research that includes women of every body type.

We need medical training that addresses bias—both conscious and unconscious.

And we need healthcare environments where patients feel safe asking questions without fear of being dismissed.

Because when patients feel heard, they engage more in their care.

When they feel respected, they trust the system.

And when they trust the system, everyone benefits.

The Ending We All Deserve

I walked out of my appointment today thinking about something simple.

Healthcare should not make people feel small.

It should not make people feel ashamed.

And it certainly should not make people feel invisible.

Instead, healthcare should start with listening.

It should continue with curiosity.

And it should end with partnership—two people working together to figure out what a body needs in order to thrive.

So here’s my closing thought.

If you work in medicine, please hear this:

The number on the scale is not the whole story.

Behind that number sits a woman with a history, a family, a body, a mind, and a voice that deserves to be taken seriously.

And until every woman—no matter her size—can walk into a doctor’s office without fear of being dismissed, the conversation about women’s health is far from finished.