The other night I was looking at old pictures that I was tagged in from middle school on Facebook and I found myself with tears streaming down my face. I’ve always struggled with trying to have a positive self-image. Whenever I was in the sixth grade, my parents split up, and I started gaining a ton of weight. I guess my 11-year-old self sought comfort in food. Honestly, I don’t even remember it really happening. Over the course of about 2 years, I gained a ton of weight. Looking back, I’m not sure how I let it happen but what I do know is that almost every time that I look in the mirror, I wish that it would never have happened.
Before I go any further, I want to say that I know and understand that your weight is something that you can typically manage. I’m sure there will be someone who comments on this and says “Just eat healthy and work out,” or something harsh. I’m expecting it, but before you do please just hear me out.
In the sixth grade, a girl in my grade told me “You know, you’d be really pretty if you lost some weight,” in front of the entire class. I was so embarrassed. I didn’t know what to say so I just agreed and then hid my face. Eight years later and that comment still sticks with me. It lingers in the back of my mind basically 24-7. That’s the year that I stopped wearing short sleeve shirts unless they were oversized and came down past my elbow. That’s the year that I stopped wearing shorts. I stopped wanting to be in pictures. I hated having to get up and speak in front of my class. That one little comment had suddenly pointed out every flaw that I saw with my body and it ate me alive.
I hated going to the doctor. Every time they would ask me to get on the scale so they could get my weight I would cringe then proceed to step on it trying to keep from putting all of my weight on the scale. The doctor would always say “You should probably lose some weight,” and I couldn’t help but start crying. I hated going to P.E. in school, especially during the week of the Physical Fitness test. They’d make you get on a scale (in front of everyone), they’d record your weight and then the rest of the week was spent doing exercises in front of your entire grade and being recorded on how many you could do. We would end the week with running a mile and my goal was always just to not be the last one to finish. Summer’s were dreaded because I refused to wear shorts in the 100-degree heat, much less wear a bathing suit.
I wanted to lose weight. I had grown to hate my body and everything about it. The stretch marks that I saw in the mirror were a constant reminder of how I had gained so much weight. The thought that I would only be pretty if I was skinny still consumed my mind. I tried to lose weight. I was exercising, I was trying to eat only healthy foods, and it was like no matter what I did I couldn’t lose it. I spent several years consumed with the thought that “fat” is what defined me and I beat myself up for it every day. I’d spend hours looking at pictures of all of the skinny pretty girls on social media feeling so jealous. There were even multiple times that I had talked to my best friends about how I had thought about just not eating anymore because then I would have to lose weight, however, my issue never grew into an eating disorder and for that, I am so thankful.
A couple of years later my dad broke down the first wall. We were at the mall and I had been wanting a pair of Nike shorts so bad because all of my friends were wearing them. I didn’t own a pair of shorts and I hadn’t worn them in years. I spent about 15 minutes building up the courage to go try a pair on. I finally did, but once I had them on I refused to come out of the dressing room with them on to let my dad see. He finally talked me into it, and he assured me that they looked fine and he bought them. Since then I’ve slowly but surely been building back up my self-confidence. Freshman year homecoming dance I overcame the fear of wearing anything that showed my arms and I wore a strapless dress. There have been many other people and instances that have helped contribute to this (such as my best friend and my boyfriend) and for that, I am so thankful. I definitely still struggle, but it’s not the same sixth-grade self-hating mentality that I once had.
I write this because I know that there are so so many other girls out there like me. Girls who look at the modern day models on social media. Girls who see what is considered “plus sized” in magazines and in stores. Girls who wish they could lose weight. Girls who struggle with ideas of eating disorders. Girls who avoid scales and cringe when they are unavoidable. Girls who literally cry actual tears in dressing rooms in town because they can’t find anything that seems to fit right or that they feel good in. Girls who go to the gym and work their tails off trying so hard to lose weight, yet feel so judged and unworthy by everyone who’s there that is not overweight. Girls who hate buying pants because the number on the tag is “above the average size.” If you’re reading this, maybe that's you. And if it is, I want you to know that you are not alone. I completely understand, because I feel the same way. But listen to me: You are not defined by the number on the scale or the size jeans you wear. You are SO much more than a number. There are so many unique and awesome characteristics and qualities that make you you.
To the girls who hate their bodies, I am with you. But the day that you realize that your weight doesn’t make you who you are is the day that you will be able to come to love yourself. Slowly but surely, I am working on making myself fall in love with my appearance. I’m going to the gym regularly, I’m eating healthier and I’m drinking water like it’s my job but even if I don’t lose any weight, that doesn’t make me any less worthy, beautiful, or loved. Neither does it you. Girls, it doesn’t matter what you look like as long as you’re healthy and you love yourself. After all, what’s a “perfect” weight or size to be, anyways? There’s no such thing. You’re beautiful the way you are. Now, love yourself.
