Growing up, I was taller than average, and didn't have much baby fat. I was often called "naturally thin," which, because of my environment (and average genetics), I was. My mom, like many people's moms, would often show affection through food. Don't get me wrong; she showed affection in a lot of ways. Any bonding activity we did, however, notably included food. A picnic, a walk on the beach (to the store that sold steamed milk), baking, etc.
I stayed "naturally thin" until my junior year of high school, when I started gaining weight. Obviously I gained weight all while growing, but up to then it was always proportional. I started eating out more with friends, the pocket money I got from working supplied me with a steady stream of frappuccinos, and once I got into weed the munchies would take over. And, like anything, treats got less enjoyable as I had more of them, so I would order them in greater quantities, and faster and faster. At some point, the excess fat stops going to your boobs and starts going to your stomach. I went from 120/125 pre-puberty, to 135 post-puberty, to 142 with a layer of chub. Being 5'7" made this gain less noticeable, and so I didn't think much of it.
Then, this summer, before coming to college, at a routine check-up, I weighed in at 153. To save you some calculations, that's a BMI of exactly 24, only 7 pounds away from the overweight category. I suddenly saw all the excess weight. I was technically in the healthy range, but I had essentially no muscle, so that weight was all in fat. I got winded walking up stairs. My thighs chafed. I was slower.
Unfortunately, I reacted very poorly to this revelation. I was supposed to be naturally thin! Not a very confident teen, and with a history of poor coping skills, I quickly bought diet pills, took my brother's mini step machine, and limited myself to 750 calories a day. Losing at a rate of 3-4 pounds a week, I dropped to 119 (when I had no food, water, or waste in my system. I averaged around 123). I only ate foods I didn't like so I wouldn't be tempted to "overeat," and on the rare occasion I indulged, wolfed it down, barely enjoying it, and threw it back up. I went home for a weekend and everyone's mothers commented on my weight loss. I didn't like the way I looked. Somehow still chubby in my own eyes (probably from continuing to never exercise and having no muscle), my stomach had gotten flatter, but the remaining squish was accentuated by my shrinking boobs. Not wanting to draw concern, and hoping to get my boobs back, I relaxed my rules and let my self gain and went up to 130 pounds. Soon after the holidays rolled around, and already out of the worst of my obsession, I gained another five pounds.
Coming back to school after winter break, I fully resolved to approach my weight with a healthy mindset, and be less invested in the outcomes. I've lost those five holiday pounds, without much restricting, just being mindful.
This brings us to today. Walking on campus, I saw a girl with a green tea frappe from Starbucks. My favorite. My weakness. My source of at least five pounds, just by themselves. 430 calories for a medium. I suddenly felt an intense desire. I walked into the Starbucks on my way to class, and ordered one.
I drank the whole thing, and kept it down. It's not going to be an everyday thing, but I really wanted one, and that's ok. Perhaps most amazingly, I savored it. I took little sips, and let them melt in my mouth. I admired the flavor, appreciated the sweetness. It was one of the best frappuccinos I've ever had.
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