Hello redditors of r/loseit. You might not read this, or care, but I guess yelling this out into the void is the therapy I need right now.
TD;LR: this just outlines some of the struggles I’ve had with body dysmorphia, a little bit of my story, my journey, and what I feel like on the inside. It’s cathartic, really...
“I look back on my body from a few years ago and I’d kill to look like that again. But I never ever remember feeling good in my body at the time and thought I was too big”
This is a quote from some twitter post that really stuck out to me and rung true.
I have always struggled with my body image. The scale has never matched how I look. I could be 180 pounds and look skinny. I tell friends and family my weight now and it’s always a surprise because “I would have NEVER guessed you weigh that much. You must hide it really well. They say muscles are heavier than fat so maybe you just have a lot of muscle!” Yeah, right haha.
I have vivid memories of my father telling me at 12 years old that if I continued eating how I was eating that I would be a blimp, and that I was close to already being there. He told me that men don’t find fat girls attractive. I was at a healthy weight at 12 years old and any ‘unhealthy’ eating habits I did had I learned from my parents. My mother would constantly have something to say about my body and my weight, specifically my breasts (???). She would tell me when I’m older I should think about getting a tummy tuck and a breast lift and that then I would be beautiful and skinny.
I suffered with binge eating all my adolescence, and not stopping when I was full. Eating full platters just because I loved the taste, not because I was hungry. Bored snacking. Yadda yadda.
At my high school graduation, I was 215 pounds and a size 14/15. At 18 years old, the day after I graduated high school I moved across the country without my parents and lost a bunch of weight. I was working at a restaurant, smoking a bunch of weed, and drinking protein shakes when I wasn’t having my usual Red Robin burger (where I worked) or Chick fil A. My weight loss wasn’t intentional. How I managed to lose as much weight as I did? I have no clue. I was probably about a size 10. Had no idea how much I weighed because I didn’t own a scale. I looked good and I felt good, but still when I looked in the mirror all I could see and focus on was my rolls on my stomach, my flabby arms and my breasts which ‘hung’ too low for an 18 year old.
When I moved back home a year later, I switched to a few different birth controls (long story) which caused my hormones to completely go whacky, and combined with insecurity and the holidays, I managed to gain over 35 pounds. Along with the weight came my mother’s incessant and unnecessary comments about how much weight I’ve gained and to “just do what you were doing when you lived in [state across the country]!”
I tried to lose the weight. I was active. I ate right. I went to doctors who prescribed me medication after medication to ‘cease my appetite’ and help me to lose the weight but I only lost about 8 pounds. Had to sit through my old, white, male doctor telling me how I’ll ‘get the attention of all the boys when I’m finally skinny’, or how my weight loss was all in my head, and about how nutritionists were all crackpots. When I asked to see an endocrinologist because I feared my weight gain was hormone based (from the birth control fiasco), I was basically laughed at and was told that “specialists don’t see people just because they’re fat.”
It caused me to spiral into a mindset of complacency about my body and my weight. Why should I care about what I look like or how much I weigh if what I try to lose weight is useless. So I stopped trying. Stayed away from mirrors and scales. I ate what I wanted and didn’t care.
I am now 21 years old, 5’ 9”, and last time I weighed myself (about 4 weeks ago) I weighed in at 225 lbs, my all time highest high weight. I can feel the rolls on my back touching my hips. I feel my arms close to ballooning out of my shirts.
I look in the mirror, and I feel like I’m being lied to. Sometimes I see myself and I’m skinny, cute, and stylish. My jaw line is prominent, and my ‘fat’ is really my curves. Other times all I see is double chin city, my back rolls that somehow multiplied to 3, my mismatched boobs that hang weird, and all I can think about is how my dad was right, I’m a blimp.
I look back at pictures of how my body looked after I moved away. How skinny I was, and how good I looked. But I remember how I felt, and my mindset was terrible. The body I had did not match the way I thought my body looked. The body I had is what my goal is now.
But I’m working on that. I’ve changed my mindset through meditation and affirmations. The body I had is the body I have. When I look in the mirror, I focus on the things I love about myself, and think about the things I am working on. What my goals are. I still don’t own a scale, I get too obsessed. Instead I like to focus on how my clothes fit, and how I feel. I started intermittent fasting, drinking protein shakes, intuitive eating, yoga, mindfulness, and walking my dogs.
I would really like to not feel my back fat rubbing my hip fat. One day. It is a long, long journey. One day I will look in the mirror and the girl looking back will be the one I feel like on the inside.
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