Fiona Tate - The Depression Muse
3 min readMar 12, 2021


I nearly got sucked in again. Nearly.

By whom, you ask?

The Dastardly Diet Industry, but they were really clever with it this time.

I am currently the heaviest I’ve ever been. Despite trying so hard to lose weight. Despite the mindset work, the hypnosis, the begging, the pleading, and the crying. Despite the exercise that just increased my pain level and despite the heart attack at 49 years old. Despite knowing how to lose weight, despite losing 40kg before (and gaining it back again).

Despite all of this, I am uncomfortably, painfully, obnoxiously, fat. I hate looking at myself in the mirror and I hate being this huge immobile lump of fat.

Am I being too hard on myself? Yes.

Would I speak to my best friend like this? No.

Is it all my fault? Yes. And no.

I believe that there are many factors that lead up to a person being as big as I am and I believe that some of these factors, in fact, most of them, are out of my control.

Did you know that there are such things as obesogens? These are chemicals that contribute to obesity and we don’t even eat the fuckers! Obesogens are found in plastic, cosmetics, cookware, food containers, baby bottles, and toys. We absorb them through our skin. They are toxins in our environment.

The odds are stacked against many of us before we even attempt to think about losing weight.

In my opinion, I (and many people like me) don’t need another diet. I need treatment. I need medical and psychological treatment for the condition I have that makes me fat.

And that’s how they nearly caught me. Again. The Bastards.

I had a meltdown earlier this week as the pain in my hips due to the weight I’m carrying became too much. I was desperate for help, feeling hopeless and vulnerable. And getting around 4 hours of sleep each night. That’s nowhere near enough zzzzz’s for me and my clinically depressed brain.

I came across one of these weight loss people who were advertising “no diet” weight loss that had good results. I filled in the form, watched the introductory webinar, spoke to a representative, and then spoke to another representative, who finally gave me the price of the program.

I won’t mention which program I’m talking about, not because I want to protect them, but because it really doesn’t matter. They’re all the same, no matter how “different” they say they are.

When I was filling in the original form they asked what I thought was the reason I’d put on the weight in the first place. At the time I thought it was a weird question to ask but I was so desperately unhappy with my situation that I shrugged it off and kept going. Maybe they were just trying to figure out where my mindset was at?

Now that I’m thinking more clearly, I can see that they asked that question so they would know exactly which buttons to push. I told them I thought I had a condition that needed treatment rather than a diet, and that’s what they sold me. Or tried to. Bastards.

And the worst thing is, if I’d had the money they asked for, I would have paid it. But because I didn’t have it, I couldn’t sign up, so instead, I got off the phone feeling even worse than I had before and convinced that I would never get the right help. I was all alone and stuck with my weight, my misery, and early death. Bastards.

And, you know what they suggested? That I go through a finance company to pay for it. And as luck would have it, they knew of one that was really good. Oh. My. God. Bastards.

Preying on the weak and vulnerable. And when they heard what my weight actually was they must have been clapping their hands with glee, knowing I’d be with them for a while. Bastards.

Bastards. Bastards. Bastards.

Know what I did instead of paying their ridiculous fees? I went to my Doctor, got some painkillers, and got some sleep. Today I woke up looking forward to a meal of vegetables (they were delicious) and tomorrow I’ll start exercising again. I’m motivated and excited to lose this weight. And I’ll do it without selling my firstborn to a finance company.




Fiona Tate - The Depression Muse

Tarot Alchemist, Writer & Depression Slayer. My readings help you turn the demon Depression into a Creature of F&*king Beauty