The first time I worried I was overweight was in the third grade.
Let me emphasize here that I was no older than eight years of age. At eight years old, I was worried that I was at risk of not being good enough because of my weight, when in reality my weight should not have been such a source of preoccupation. I was healthy, active, and pretty athletic in actuality. One of my closest friends that year started restricting what she ate, skipped school lunch, and talked about how she ran on the treadmill constantly at home. Let me reiterate that we were eight years old.
When I was in eighth grade, a boy in class called me too fat for him. I was not only made to feel self-conscious about something that should not have been an issue, but I was told in so many words that my worth and identity were wrapped up in how I looked to other people. I was involved in multiple sports and worked out at the gym a fair amount. In reality, I was probably underweight, but I was very active and ate quite enough so I never knew why I was made to feel self-conscious about my body.
In high school, I gained a couple of pounds after turning from sports to focus on academics and other clubs. Though I had been self-conscious about my body for years, this was when I truly was at my lowest when it came to my self-esteem and how I viewed my figure.
I was undergoing a lot of stress at this point in my life and I felt as if the only thing I could truly control was my weight, or more specifically, my eating habits and exercise. I would hide what I was (or wasn’t) eating from my parents, I was defensive whenever my mom inquired about my weight or the fact that I wanted to drop some pounds, and I was weighing myself multiple times per day. I would wait until my parents would leave the house to furiously run back and forth on our stairs in an effort to burn off what little I ate fast, and I became obsessed with counting calories. Some days I would only allow myself to eat around 600 calories, and on the days I went over this maximum, I would beat myself up inside. I was tired. I was cranky. My self-esteem was nonexistent.
And yet I never viewed this as an eating disorder. Eating disorders, I thought, fit into only two distinct categories: people who binged and purged and people who just didn’t eat at all. Since I wasn’t purging and technically I was still eating a small amount of calories, I didn’t think I fit into either category. I never reached out and I never asked for help from anyone. I hated my body for years. Looking back, I only wish I had loved it for what it was rather than making myself so miserable.
Nowadays I would say my relationship with food is much healthier. I stay away from tracking my calories too closely because I know that for me it can lead to obsessing, and I let myself have the food I want to eat. On the days where I have an extra dessert or fries I tell myself that it’s okay. To live, you must eat. I remind myself that actually eating is much better than what I once did, and I feel so proud each day that I eat a healthy and normal amount of food.
I will not lie and say that there are never days where I think in the back of my mind how I should just stop eating for a while and constrict my calories, but I work hard to keep these thoughts at bay. Though I never really pegged myself as having an eating disorder until looking back on my high school experiences as a college student, I do know now that the effects of this mental condition will stay with me for the rest of my life. I still struggle with feelings of guilt after eating some days, but I work through them.
I am writing this article today for a variety of reasons. I want people to know that just because they don’t feel they fit one solid category of what they think an eating disorder is does not mean they don’t have a problem with disordered eating. Eating disorders come in many different forms. Some may seem quite visible, but others may not be. This isn’t to say that every person will encounter one in their lifetime, but this is to say that most likely you know someone who has been affected.
I also want to highlight the fact that young boys and girls are pressured from a young age about their weight. I stated previously that one of my friends stopped eating in the third grade and I was worried about my own weight. We hadn’t even hit puberty yet. To think that this is a societal norm is unacceptable. Children should be worried about playing outside and learning who they are, not about skipping meals to drop weight.
The last thing I want to touch on is this – being overweight does not mean you are not worthy. It has nothing to do with your self worth. The fact that people hurl around the term “fat” as if it is the most biting of insults is truly frustrating. As long as you are comfortable and healthy and happy, that is all anyone can ask for. We need to start investing in our character, our passions, and our love for ourselves and others.
To anyone who is struggling or knows someone working through an eating disorder, I strongly encourage you to go to NEDA’s website and explore options for getting help. I am so lucky that I was able to turn my eating habits and lifestyle choices around, but living in a dark hole that is an eating disorder is something that is not easy to climb out of. Know that you are never alone in your fight, and that there is always hope.
Rep image from Flickr.