I’ve had the “I could stand to lose a couple (like 20) pounds, but tbh I just can’t be bothered to work that hard” body-type for as long as I can remember.
I’d look in the mirror and be a little uncomfortable with the body looking back at me. I’d compare myself to smaller friends and get frustrated when I couldn’t get trends and styles to look “the way they’re supposed to.” But overall, body image wasn’t a major stressor in my life.
Then I got sick.
To be honest, I’m still not entirely sure what happened. And I won’t bore you with the complicated details and the hundreds of trips to campus health (shouts out to the friends who hugged me through that and to my parents who I called, crying, everyday).
But what you need to know (for the current topic) is that for about four months in the fall of 2014 and into the spring of 2015, everything I ate made me feel awful. So for about four months I lived on a slice of bread and a banana a day.
Suddenly I went from that “could stand to lose 20 pounds” body type to losing 10 pounds a week.
I remember staring into dressing-room mirrors and wondering who the person looking back at me was. I was already uncomfortable and scared 90% of the time. The fact that I was starting to look like a completely different person only added to that.
When I’d tell people I was sick and I couldn’t figure out why, I’d get the occasional, “Well, at least you’re skinny now,” response. And while I appreciated that people were digging for a silver lining, it just reminded me that I was different.
I’m better now. At least when I eat the right food and remember to take my nightly SSRI. Which I do. Most of the time.
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Which is just so entirely screwed up.
I don’t know how to get back to the place where the perfect body is one that comes with a happy mind, and a full heart, and a digestive system that behaves properly rather than a flat stomach.
We talk a lot today about normal body types, healthy lifestyles and unrealistic standards. But for all that talk, it doesn’t feel like we’ve gotten anywhere.
We all still want to look like someone else. We all wish that “this was smaller” or “this was fuller” or “this item of clothing fit right.” I mean, I’m over here looking in a mirror and wishing that I looked the way I did when I felt the worst I ever have.
And no matter how stupid I know that is, I can’t shake that wish.
How do we get to a place where we love ourselves and each other because we’re happy, healthy and strong rather than conventionally beautiful? I don’t know.
I don’t know what the solution is. I only know that the problem is a lot bigger than I ever realized.
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