Barriers and History

Before this process begins, it is important to me that I take a look at ongoing factors in my life that have lead to my distorted attitude towards physical health. Why is discussing losing weight so hard for me, and why is it that every time someone tells me I look like I've lost weight it's almost as painful as feeling like I've gained?

My body weight has fluctuated significantly in the last few years. During my junior year of high school I was so utterly depressed that I used food as a tool of self mutilation. I hated myself so much that I forced myself to gain weight. Maybe I was hoping someone would notice and do something to help, or maybe I just hoped that all those warnings about bad cholesterol were true. Either way, I began my senior year at almost 200 pounds. Needless to say, it was not a good time for me.

The pictures for today (I wish I could upload these at the END of the post instead of beginning) are a bit more inspiring than yesterday. They are two pictures of me from when I had just lost weight. I was feeling great, and part of me loves these pictures for that, and another part hates that this time had to pass. The first one is Cassie, Lindy, and I in our last French class of high school, and the other is Sara and I, I like that my face looks thinner and there is a nice distinct line on my neck.

My sister Danae has often been the vehicle for weight loss in my life and senior year was just another example. I'm grateful to her for basically forcing me to get healthy for the first time in my life. With her help (seriously, I kicked and screamed the whole time) I lost about 35 pounds in a few months and ended up the smallest I've been since that time. I went to my high school graduation weighing 165 pounds, and dammit I looked great.

Since this time life has gotten in the way. My weight has fluctuated significantly. I've been almost as bad as I was junior year, but on average I try to be confident at 175 pounds. The truth is I'm not. I don't want to be skinny. Not at all, the idea of looking like a twig-while sometimes sounds appealing-will never be my lifestyle. I want to be beautiful, and I do know that in some ways I am, but I want to be more beautiful.

I thought I would end this post by looking at some of the things people have said in the past about my body, the things that have stuck out to me as catalysts for this barrier I've come up against when I look in the mirror. I'm not going to name names and sorry if you figure out that you've said something that hurt me, but here goes:

1. I didn't know what a double chin was until you told me I had one, pulling the line of fat from under my chin to show me how bad it was. Now it's my least favorite part of the only beautiful part of my body-my face.

2. Once when I was a pre-teen you told me I had the fattest thighs you'd ever seen.

3. You once said that I could be a model from the breasts up, did you know that I hated my breasts?

4. You said that I'm pretty, but if I lost weight I'd be prettier, that if I lost 30 pounds I'd have boys all over me.

5. You made me re-run the mile because 12 minutes wasn't good enough. (Guess who that was)

6. When I asked you why boys don't pay attention to me you said it was because I was chubby, and I hated realizing you were right.

7. You said that I was the biggest out of all of us in an attempt to make you feel better about yourself. It made me feel worse.

8. You told me you didn't think I could do the same physical work as everyone else because I was too fat.

I'm trying to remind myself that I can only go up from here. If I can learn to take what people say with a smile, then I think this whole thing would have been a positive experience.