I’m Disabled, Fat, and Now There’s a Heatwave …

Heatwaves are uncomfortable for most people.

For me, they feel personal.

Every summer, there comes a point where the temperature climbs and everyone starts complaining. There are jokes about melted ice cream, sleepless nights, and British people being unable to cope with anything above twenty degrees. Most of the complaints are light-hearted. Temporary. The assumption is that everyone is sharing the same experience.

We are not.

I am disabled, fat, and living with multiple sclerosis.

Heat does not simply make me uncomfortable. It makes my body feel like it is malfunctioning.

One of the cruelest things about MS is that heat often amplifies symptoms. Fatigue becomes heavier. Concentration becomes harder. My legs feel weaker, more unreliable. The familiar buzzing sensation beneath my skin seems to intensify, as though my nervous system is already working overtime and the heat has decided to make the job even harder.

The world feels slower.

My body feels slower.

Everything takes more effort.

There is a strange frustration in watching people treat hot weather as an inconvenience when, for many disabled people, it can become a genuine barrier to daily life. Walking becomes harder. Standing becomes harder. Sleeping becomes harder. Even existing can feel like work.

Then there is the reality of being fat in a heatwave.

Society loves to talk about larger bodies, usually through the lens of responsibility, discipline, or self-improvement. It talks far less about what it is actually like to inhabit one.

Heat settles differently in a larger body. Clothes cling. Skin becomes uncomfortable. Every movement feels amplified. The simple act of existing outdoors can feel exhausting before you have even started doing anything.

People often assume fat people are simply uncomfortable because they are overweight.

The reality is that many of the same things that make heat difficult for everyone become harder when there is more body to cool, more effort involved in movement, and less societal understanding of the experience.

Add MS to the equation and it becomes a perfect storm.

My body is already spending energy managing a neurological condition. Heat demands even more from a system that is already stretched. The result is a level of exhaustion that can be difficult to explain to people who see sunshine and think only of holidays and barbecues.

The irony is that summer is supposed to be the season of activity.

People want to go walking. They want to spend all day outdoors. They want festivals, beach trips, and long afternoons in beer gardens. Summer is often presented as the season where life happens.

For many disabled people, summer can feel like the season where life becomes harder to access.

The calculation starts again.

How much shade is there?

Will there be somewhere to sit?

How far will I have to walk?

How much recovery will I need afterward?

Will the heat make my symptoms worse?

These questions accompany every plan.

The heatwave also exposes another uncomfortable reality: society is not designed for bodies that struggle.

Buildings trap heat. Public transport becomes unbearable. Accessible seating in shaded areas is limited. Air conditioning remains surprisingly rare in many British spaces. The expectation remains that everyone should simply get on with it.

Getting on with it requires energy.

Energy is exactly what many chronically ill people do not have.

There is a particular kind of loneliness in feeling your world shrink while everyone else seems to be enjoying theirs. Friends post photographs from sunny days out. Families plan adventures. The weather becomes something people celebrate.

Meanwhile, I am checking the temperature forecast like it is a warning label.

None of this means I hate summer.

It means I experience it differently.

Chronic illness has taught me that the same environment can feel completely different depending on the body experiencing it. A beautiful sunny day can also be physically overwhelming. A warm afternoon can also be a source of anxiety.

Both realities can exist at once.

Being disabled, fat, and living through a heatwave means constantly negotiating with a body that already requires careful management. It means accepting that my limits may appear long before anyone else’s. It means recognising that my struggle is real even when it is invisible.

The heat does not care whether I have plans.

MS does not care whether it is inconvenient.

My body does not suddenly become easier to live in because the sun is shining.

So while everyone else is talking about making the most of the weather, I am doing something different.

I am making the most of my energy.

Because unlike the heatwave, that is a resource I cannot afford to waste.