I don’t know when it starts; I am sure for many of us it is at different points in our lives. That idea, that if we just lost a couple of pounds we would be happier. I remember when it first started for me. I was in high school and the boys I liked always went for girls that looked nothing like me. No one ever called me fat, no one told me I couldn’t get someone to like me because of the way I looked, but when you get passed up by crush after crush for the beautiful girl with long strong legs and a flat stomach, you just assume. Or I did at least.
It was at that time that I lost my first ever ten pounds. I started eating healthy and working out. I felt great and my jeans were baggy. People looked at me differently, some even commented on my weight loss. Alas, the swarm of cute boys at my school continued to look past me. I lost five more pounds around prom season and got rejected from every junior class mate to attend prom with me. Crushed is an understatement, but I moved on to college feeling pretty good and spent the majority of my college career with close friends. Weight was far from my mind at that point because I was having so much fun and was so genuinely happy.
My senior year of college I started seeing a football guy. We would hang out on the down low and it was made clear early on that we weren’t ever going to be in a real relationship, but us girls we try right! So I continued to see him on the weekend evenings for a few months, until one night after hanging out and being intimate he looked at me and said “so how much do you weigh anyway?”
Yet another catalyst to believe, that my weight was an issue. I stopped speaking to him shortly after but again I became obsessed with my body. The idea that my imperfections were stopping me from having a relationship and from being a happy whole individual, consumed my mind. I graduated college and lost weight again. I lost my goal weight and for a while I was pleased with myself.
For a couple years I struggled strongly with my body and the image in my mind of myself. It didn’t matter how others looked, I viewed curvy beautiful women, plus size models with their confidence as the most gorgeous woman I had ever seen. For me, I couldn’t see outside my own self discrimination. I would gain and lose weight, annoy those around my by calling myself fat. I would continue to use the “if I could just lose 5 more pounds I would be happy.” I would get in to the size jeans I strived for, for months but the moment I did I would look to the next size I wanted to be. I never stopped and appreciated my body. Not once.
It wasn’t until about 6 months ago I was standing in front of the mirror getting dressed to go out with my boyfriend. I poked at my stomach and said, “I just want to be (insert a random weight).” Without missing a beat he said “and then what?” I was floored by the comment. My mind started to unravel while I listened to him talk about if that number would ever be enough, or would I go on to believe that a different number would make me happy with my body. Was it even the number on the scale that bothered me? Could I even pin point what was wrong or what I wanted so badly to change about what I saw in the mirror.
It took me longer than I am happy to admit to realize that he was right. I had never chosen a number, had the scale land on it and said “WOW, I am a bombshell.” I never floated on air so happy because finally I could wear the size pants I wanted to. It was something to focus on, something to blame for simply not liking myself enough to say I was beautiful no matter was size sweater I put on in the morning. So I made myself a promise. I hid the scales in my house and refused to step on one. I stopped letting myself call me fat. Not just because it was so untrue but also the hurt I was putting on myself and those around me by saying it so often. Lastly I promised to start to do the things that I loved and that made me who I am. Read more, write more. Enjoy wine with friends without thinking about calories, because what size jeans I wear certainly doesn’t tell someone how big my heart is or who my favorite author is.
My other promise was to stick with eating healthy but not beat myself up for loving brownies. Continue to work out for the benefits it gives me emotionally, but be ok with not compare me to others and their journeys. I am in no way putting down those out there who rock the fitness world. Their dedication and commitment is inspiring, as is their happiness they get from it. If doing all these things make me happy, and at the end of the day I have to by a different size dress, that will be ok with me, finally. Because being skinny won’t make me happy, I will do that myself.
By Kara Anne