I have been meaning to write this post forever. I try to be really open and transparent with the world. I don’t want to put up a front (probably mostly because I had one up for so long). I wasn’t sure where this post was going to go but here goes nothing:
Weight (and eating/exercise habits) are a super personal thing. Why are we so obsessed with how people perceive our weight and why are we so fixated on other peoples’?
One of my first clear memories involves a boy in my class telling me that I couldn’t be Barbie for Halloween because I was too fat. This was in PRESCHOOL. I was a normally developing child by any standards. Talk about setting me up for success..
In second grade (and for many years after that) I used to cut my food up, hide it in napkins, and throw it away in pieces to avoid eating my lunch. I hated eating but I’m not sure it had anything to do with my weight at this time.
I quit gymnastics when I hit puberty because I had boobs (and quite a bit of a gut – thanks nana for feeding me cheese balls) and I felt out of place.
A friend and I used to throw up after lunch together in seventh grade. It was a ritual and what we bonded over. By this time I truly believed that eating made you fat and didn’t do anything else for you.
I wouldn’t let my boys touch my stomach and I never took my shirt off for anyone (this still might be an issue).
When I was seventeen my boyfriend at the time broke up with me and all his friends harassed me on Facebook by calling me the “fatty.” I lost fifteen pounds before prom so my dress was too big.
In college I had the time of my life but not without gaining the freshman thirty (that may or may not be an exaggeration). I was feeling myself, getting laid and never felt better. Except that I’d have to take a break between flights of stairs and I couldn’t fit in any of my clothes..
When I decided to clean up my diet and get my ass off the couch, I quickly saw results. I loved being able to buy new clothes and how much more I could do. I loved not being the heaviest person in the room.
My boyfriend at the time who I had loved dearly and thought I was going to marry told me that he didn’t like me “skinny.” He told me I was “disgusting” and he thought healthy eating was useless. Needless to say, our relationship fizzled out. There were other issues, but having your boyfriend hate what you look like probably is the icing on the cake.
I’ve learned a lot from how other people treat me now that I weight less than I did when I was fourteen. I don’t want it to define me though. The first step in that is changing the way I perceive myself. I’m actively trying to love myself for more than just what I look like. I’m focusing my attention on the things I can do (dead-lifting more than my boyfriend weighs is dope) instead of measurements.
I also need to stop judging people by their body size and shape. Every time I say something like “oh wow she gained weight,” I am treating them the way I don’t want to be treated. Golden rule shit still applies.