*trigger warning - weight loss, weight gain, body dysmorphia*
It's weird how people treat you when you lose a lot of noticeable weight. "Wow, you look great!" "Have you lost weight? What have you been doing?" "You look so skinny!" "Damn, you're so hot." It's even weirder how it affects how you feel about your body.
A few years ago, I knew I was out of shape and probably a little overweight. I didn't feel comfortable in my body even as I tried to not care. I worked out... enough. My diet was shit and I didn't sleep very well. But if I did enough HIIT workouts, it was fine. Then my life changed and a stress that hit so deeply took over my whole being. The kind of stress that is sneaky, but ever present. That you can feel, but also that sits in the background. The kind of stress that gets tied up in happy thoughts. I stopped eating. Lucky me, I thought. When I get stressed, my go to is to not eat. I could take a few bites from every meal or snack, but then felt incredibly full. I never felt hungry. My stomach tied in knots all the time. After a couple months and 10 lbs., I knew this wasn't good. But it felt great. I looked amazing. I felt lighter (physically). My stomach didn't pooch out as much and I could see abs! I had to buy smaller sizes and get items taken in at the waist. Then a couple more months passed and I lost another 10 lbs. In total, I lost 20 lbs. that fluctuated a bit depending on how much I was able to get in my body. On a 5' frame, that is a lot of weight.
After over half a year of barely eating, I had to stop working out. I wasn't consuming enough calories to sustain... well... anything. I checked my weight daily with a mixture of pride and fear. You can't go below this number or it's dangerous. At some point, my face started to look a little more sunken in at my cheeks and my hip bones started to jut out and my muscle definition disappeared. My hair started falling out and lost it's shine. I was tired all the time. And still, people would tell me how they wish they could be like me and that I was so beautiful and how they wished that when they were stressed they could stop eating too. I would just awkwardly laugh and say, "yeah, but this is so unhealthy, please don't do it this way" and still letting their words of praise fuel me.
I hit the year mark and was still incredibly stressed, but I was able to eat more. Not enough, but more. I started working out again. More HIIT. I had become a little bit obsessed with how thin I looked. I didn't want to not eat, but I didn't want to gain all the weight back either. At one point, I bought a skirt in a size that I hadn't even worn in high school and I fit into my mother's wedding dress that she wore when she was 19 (I was over 30). I hated how accomplished I felt, but relished the feeling too.
Time kept passing. I kept undereating. I kept weighing myself every day. I kept completing workouts that exhausted me (but did show results). And then, I started feeling happier. I won't say it was like a cloud passing to let the sun shine through, but it was a noticeable difference. I started eating more of my meals. I took multi-vitamins. I changed up my work out routine. I started sleeping more. I journaled. I saw more of my friends. And I slowly gained the weight I had lost.
It took about two years. At first I had noticed the waistband on my skirts feeling tighter and some tops not fitting nearly as well in the bust. Then I had a doctors appointment and was weighed. There it was. The number I never wanted to see again. I cried when I got home. I cried because it all felt very un-feminist and body negative to me. My body and how it looks is the least interesting thing about me and I would tell everyone that emphatically. But my brain had rewired itself over the past few years to believe I was more lovable, more fuckable, more worthy, just more, as a thin woman. I have always been small, but never considered myself thin. That might be a weird way to look at how I've viewed my body, but that's just how I've seen myself. Looking in the mirror, I knew I was still small. I knew I needed to gain some weight back. I knew I was healthier. It didn't change the fact that I've had to donate some of my favorite skirts (and trousers) because they no longer fit. I was and am at war with my mind. Because I know. But when you spend your whole life being fed the belief of one thing... it's difficult to change your thinking and it takes time.
I always feel a bit funny talking about this. I'm not overweight. I wear straight sizes. I'm white. And I'm attractive (I have a decently healthy self-esteem, okay?). Yes, everyone has a right to their feelings and every woman is made to feel bad about something, but I have never had to feel like I didn't belong because of what my body looked like. I cannot imagine what that feels like and I wish this world was better to people, especially women, of all sizes. So, you're probably thinking, why is she even blathering on about all this. You're right, this is rambling and I should get to the point.
I'm writing this mostly to hold myself accountable, but also, just in case someone who feels the same way is reading this or following me. That gaining weight isn't the worst thing in the world (unless it is, but this isn't that). This weight gain came with a steady and healthy work out routine. It came with regular meals and less snacking. It came with daily walks. It came with falling in love again. It came with losing stress. It came with a lot of what I find to be the best things in my life. And yes, it sucks that I have had to size up in my clothing. It sucks that my stomach is no longer flat. But I feel healthy and good. At least most of the time. There's still a lot I need to work on, like eating a bit better, but I think this is what they call recovery.
If you happen to be on a weight loss or fitness journey - I applaud you. It's incredibly difficult and takes determination, consistency, and sacrifice. I'm working my way to figuring out what my maintenance will look like and it's been rough. I want to be someone that will eat the cake and does 5 AM workouts. I want to be someone that feels good in her clothes. I want to be someone that helps make others feel good about their own bodies, no matter what. And I also want to fit into my favorite skirts. Sometimes I feel like one big dichotomy. If you're still here, thank you. That probably means you've felt something similar in some way. I think the biggest thing I've learned in going through all this is: You can love your body and still want to make it better. Better is not always thinner. Thinner does not always mean healthier. And healthy looks very different for each person. Also, sizes are so arbitrary, but that doesn't make it easier to size up. While this is not completely comprehensive of my journey... I hope it makes you feel less alone in yours.
So with that... I wish I could tell the girl from 2 years ago that everything would be all right. That her hair would stop falling out and that she'd cut it into the cutest hairstyle and it would feel soft again. That her legs and glutes would grow more muscular. That her breasts would fill out again. That the scared and sad and hungry look in her eyes would fade to be replaced by light and happiness. That her tummy would grow softer, but she would grow stronger. That she would eat all her favorite foods again and enjoy them. That when she received a notification of a text from a boy, it wouldn't make her stomach twist in knots, but release her tension with a smile. I wish I could tell her that she would rest again and find her joy in the smallest moments. That even though she still touches her collar bones and pinches her belly, she would feel a peaceful contentedness with her life.
In case you were wondering, the top is the same from year to year and I sized up in the skirt.
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