I have had people tell me that "it's not fair that I'm the size I am" or people make comments about the amount I'm eating in a given situation and how it's a wonder how I'm still tiny. I let these comments slide because I understand no harm is meant, but some days it is extremely difficult for me to hear those words.
My body and my mind are in an abusive relationship of sorts and though I have come along way and I have days where I feel good about my body now, I still have days where I look in the mirror and see a body that is not my own. It seems irrational because it is, but I see parts of me expanding yet the number on the scale is the same and my clothes still fit. I can try something on before I go to bed and feel good in it, but the next day I can look in the mirror and have to find something that hides the disgusting thing I see before I leave my house.
I remember the first time I noticed a problem with my body, looking down at my thighs at age twelve noticing the perfectly normal way they touched when I sat down or the way they jiggled when I moved. I would practice sucking in my stomach and exhaling to see how far it would expand. I began wearing push- up bras because I was too disproportional when I looked at my reflection. I did sit- ups and crunches before I went to bed every single night, hoping I could prevent any overnight weight gain, but those were the simpler times.
It was three years later at age fifteen that I had an idea to start keeping a notebook of the calories I consumed on a daily basis-- I told myself I was just curious, but it quickly became my biggest obsession. I decided to try to give myself a calorie limit. At first I could only eat 1200 calories and within weeks, I had restricted myself to a 200 calorie per day limit. I began eating meals from measuring cups to make sure I didn't "cheat", I couldn't focus in school and I'm honestly surprised I passed all of my classes because when I sat down to do homework I would fall asleep in minutes.
I had days where I was in complete control, but every so often I would binge and feeling disgusting, I would find ways to get rid of it-- Whether it was through exercise equipment that would tell me the calories I burned, or eating until I physically had no choice to throw it all up. I also really screwed up my digestive system for a period of time because I would abuse laxatives or drink water with epsom-salt.
I lost thirty pounds in a little over a month and my peers were giving me compliments. And I felt so tired, but I loved that people were noticing my "hard work" because it was all that was on my mind. It was that same attention that made getting better difficult because in a sense I felt like eating normally would alter my identity and people would respect me less.
I read so many perspectives about body image and I really appreciate the ones that celebrate different sizes because so many of us face insecurity about the skin we're in. However, there are also articles that unintentionally shame other women by implying that there is something wrong with their body because they happen to have a different body type. I am writing as someone who has never been overweight, but has struggled with body image issues for almost ten years so please never assume someone is "lucky" because of their body, it might be the thing that torments them the most.
