This is not an easy one to write, while I want to discuss my feelings about my body in complete honesty, I don’t want to cause anyone else to feel shame at all. This is just my story and my struggle with my weight, everyone has a different story and feels differently about their appearance. I want to write more about how I felt about myself and the judgements of others, rather than my actual weight.
Most people are conscious of their weight, if not necessarily wanting to change it but certainly thinking about what others think of it. I think this is true for the vast majority of younger women at least, we are constantly reminded of it. Body positivity was not a thing 15 years ago, and being over weight was more harshly judged. Friends and family members felt it was appropriate to comment on my weight and my body throughout my teens and 20s, and also to constantly comment on bodies of other women in my hearing. Women constantly talking about their own bodies, women much much slimmer than me, complaining about being overweight. A constant reminder of my failing that I felt powerless to change.
When I was in my teens, I was rather slim, but at around 20 I started to gain weight. I was incredibly unhealthy, smoking, drinking, eating nonsense. It crept up on me slowly, untill all of a sudden one day I realised that I was what I would consider at the time ‘’fat’’. I have wanted to lose it ever since, I hated shopping for clothes and looking at pictures of myself for over a decade. I hated going for a haircut and staring a myself in the mirror or an hour or more. I felt so much self loathing. I was never short of male attention, I was always dating someone or another, I hated being alone, but still I hated my body. The thing about your body is, you only have one, you can’t escape it, if you hate it you are constantly walking around hating yourself. You feel self conscious all the time, you never really think you look good. As a young women you are constantly bombarded with pictures of what a beautiful women ‘’should’’ look like, you compare yourself 100 times a day. You can’t enjoy clothes, the beach, a swimming pool or even sex, because you are worried about your body. You can’t enjoy meals, for years I had anxiety about eating in front of people because of my weight. I would be so self conscious, I would be terrified of any social engagement that would include eating. It is miserable but inescapable.
Food is a comfort for me, when I am down, I want to eat cake or pancakes or cookies, and even now, I find it near impossible to stop myself. I will eat the whole pack of whatever I have. I am much healthier now, I don’t drink much, I don’t smoke, I eat mostly plant based. I am certainly not fit but I like to work out, I like to run, I love yoga, but I also like to eat. I have done a course and a lot of research on nutrition, I know what is good for me and what is not, 90% of the time I am very aware of what goes into my body, but when I have a bad day I lose control. When I go through a rough time, I gain weight. Taking care of my body, is a constant struggle for me, I want to take care of myself because I want to be able to goo for a run with my husband, I want to be able to run after my child, I want to be able to go for long walks and most importantly, I want to live a long time. I do not want to be sickly and leave my child too soon, because I didn’t take care of myself.
This makes me think that weight gain, at least in my case, is directly related to mental health. How do I maintain motivation when struggling with depression?
I certainly do not have the same feelings of self loathing now, this body made a human, my favourite human. I had an easy pregnancy in terms of my health and side affects, and I breastfed for 23 months. I am super proud of my body these days. It probably looks worse than ever by traditional standards, but I love it so much more. I do still want to lose weight, I won‘t say it doesn’t bother me now, it just bothers me much less. I still have that pair of jeans in the back of my cupboard that I will fit into one day, but other things seem so much more important to me these days. I am smart, driven, resilient, kind, honest, a great Mum and a good human, who cares if I am a little squishy in parts? Maybe one day I will stop using food as a comfort, it’s an ongoing part of my self exploration and work on myself, maybe one day I will get a handle on it, but maybe I won’t, either way it isn’t going to stop me from loving myself and experiencing my life to the fullest.
The world is much less focussed on ‘’thinness’’ these days, I think the commentary on women’s bodies is a little quieter, I hope so at least, maybe I just pay less attention? Life is too short to spend it hating the only body you have. In the grand scheme of things, a little extra body fat is pretty irrelevant.
It is better to be fat and kind, than to be thin and mean. If the worst thing people can say about you is that you are fat, then you are probably doing fine.
Love yourself, love your body, and get rid of anyone who makes you feel bad about yourself.
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