Been semi-lurking on this sub, commenting on other posts. Now it’s time to make my own post, I think. As a warning, this is very long and pretty personal.
Some backstory: growing up, I actually never had weight issues. I was a slim, healthy weight. I wasn’t very athletic, though, being a more cerebral person (despite my body adapting to working out VERY fast, especially cardio. Both my parents lament I never went into tennis but that’s a different story). Still, because I didn’t work out or be active, I was definitely “skinny-fat”.
This all changed when I met my now-ex.
We met at the start of college. We had several classes together. First, we became friends. Then I started to feel more. I was the one to make the first move and kissed him goodbye after a late-night hangout session. The next day he said he thought about it all night and realized he felt the same. We became a couple. The first couple of years while we were in college were lovely. I gained 10 lbs during those 4 years but, hey, that’s okay right? I was still thin, had a loving beau and graduated with my degree. I got my first job and a year later, he himself graduated and we moved into an apartment together.
This is when it all went downhill.
I had never not lived in my house with my parents. Meanwhile, he had for a few years now, as his parents retired to another state during our second year. Every summer he would go visit his parents. I knew this and that was fine! …Except he (in hindsight) put pressure on me to move out at the start of summer because he own lease was up and thus spend money I could have saved up. While being alone in the apartment. All summer. Depression hit me very hard, from the separation from my family. I did visit them and they were close enough for me to visit often. But I felt ashamed of needing my parents so much; I was in my 20s after all! So I did my best to be independent, struggling to learn to cook, work and deal with the slowly devouring depression.
My ex returned and started his first year for his Master’s degree. He reconnected with a high school friend he had a very public falling-out with during our second year of undergrad, around when we got together. He started spending more time with her. A lot more. He would forget dates we’d planned. He would lie and gaslight me about how he’d let me know he was spending time with her but I just “didn’t remember”. I think you can see where this is going.
I turned to food to cope. My weight crept up higher. Higher then ever. My ex would encourage us to go eat out. He would never eat anything I cooked. He always complained about having nothing to eat despite my best efforts to cook. He, himself, almost never cooked and when he did, it would be enough for himself while I would always cook a larger amount to share and have extras to bring to school/work. At the time, we hadn’t quite pinned down the system of splitting the groceries and, in hindsight, I footed most of the bill. I distinctly remember when I became conscious of my weight gain; it was summer and a mutual friend from out of state was visiting for the weekend. We planned to go to an amusement park, which included a water park section. I went to put on my pants… none of them fit. NONE. I broke down and sobbed uncontrollably for an hour. My friend (male) was the one consoling me. My ex simply left the room. When I calmed enough my friend went and bought me new pants and at the park, a new swim suit as none that I had fit me either. It was still a fun day, but that was the first time I realized I had a problem.
My ex did nothing to help me. In fact, he encouraged an environment for me to fail. He assured me he loved me, still found my attractive… despite not being intimate at that point for almost 2 years.
I purchased a home after 2 years being in the apartment together (so we were together for about 5 years at that point). My thought was to rent out the spare rooms and, more importantly, make a home for my ex and I, as I knew he had hated always moving from apartment to apartment while in college. I wanted to make a home for us. And, blindly, I was the one shouldering the financial risk. At this point, my weight was almost 200 lbs. In 2016 specifically, I gained 60 lbs in one year. My mother at that point expressed her grave concern and pushed that my ex wasn’t good for me. I ignored her and told her she was being a horrible mother. She eventually backed off. Now, in retrospective, I feel horrible: it must have been terrifying for my mother to see the rapid weight gain. Forget cosmetic changes, the stress of that really could have killed me alongside the stress of work and adjusting to living away from my family. All things my ex was apathetic to or encouraged.
Despite the sacrifices I made, the love and energy I poured into the relationship and despite ignoring so many red flags, my ex broke up with me late October of 2019. It was a rainy night when he came home from work (after only a semester he dropped from the Master’s program because he couldn’t hack it and went to work in his bachelor’s degree field). I saw he was upset and asked what was wrong. He said ‘It’s complicated.’. I asked if I’d done something wrong. He said yes and left for 3 hours in the rain. I stayed up late despite work the next day, worried about him, worried about what I could have done. I’d just gotten a new job offer and I’d been excited to let share it with him. When he came home he told me he was going to move out. I asked if he was breaking up with me and he said yes.
I fell to the floor, sobbing and begging. I’ll say I’m not proud of it. I always felt and was told by family, friends and coworkers alike I was a strong person. Yet I’d been reduced to begging on my literal hands and knees for him not to leave me. He then proceeded to air his grievances; I was too money-hungry (despite my trying to earn more to ease his own financial burdens, something which he complained loudly about despite his parents still financially supporting him in everything and mine only doing so for emergencies, as we agreed). I was too stressed (due to the house I’d gotten for us and the job I worked in order to make the money I needed). I was too controlling (because I would get confused when he was home and when he was not because he’d sneak out to his friend he’d reconciled with and, in hindsight, I suspect was cheating on me with). He also complained he’d gained weight (he cited 20 lbs. I wouldn’t know as he was heavy-set when we got together to begin with). I went to bed, destroyed. I had to take the day off for obvious reasons.
Over the weekend, my mother and I went clothes shopping. Nothing I had fit again. I officially was a size 16. When I went home I weighed myself: 225 pound. I never thought I’d get over 200 pounds. It felt like everything was falling to pieces: the person I loved was leaving me, hated me. My looks were in the trash. My 20s were near the tail end. My dream of being married with a child by 30 was in the gutter. I was saddled with debt due to the home loan and while the new position would make it so I could handle it without much issue finally, it would still be difficult. I looked around and realized I’d pushed all my friends away, my family. I was alone. To add insult to injury, my now-ex had the women he most likely was cheating on me with come over for the next 2 weeks to help him pack and leave. I found out through mutual friends he lied to me even in the end; he said he had an apartment lined up. In reality he moved in with her.
Winter came. I started my new job and pretended to be happy. I felt miserable inside. I couldn’t see my future. I couldn’t imagine it. The sorrow turned to anger. For months I metronomed pretty hard between the two emotions: sorrow at my almost 8-year relationship falling to pieces and anger because I had sacrificed everything for my ex and in return he took what he wanted and spat on me on the way out. I reached out to my few friends left. Surprisingly, they all welcomed me with open arms and understanding. My family voiced their relief over the breakup; they all hated my ex from the start. My mom promised me it was a blessing in disguise. My dad said I was a good person and my ex would suffer in his life because he was not. My brother was just happy to not have any roommates anymore, lol.
The pandemic was a blessing for me honestly. I was able to process my grief without having to fake a smile. I can still write reports and listen into meetings while sobbing in my pjs because I didn’t have the mental strength to get out of bed that day. I could sleep in until I needed to log in to poorly compensate for the nights crying myself to sleep in the early morning. I know many suffered due to the pandemic. But for me, I needed the isolation from the world.
My birthday came and went in May of 2020. It had been 7 months since the breakup. I tended to be more angry now, then sad. Angry at my ex, but also myself. I was now beginning to see not just the red flags, but the way he gaslit me. For years. Even early on in our relationship he did it but I was too blinded by love to notice. I was angry I let him do this to me. I was angry I was stupid enough not to listen to my gut.
I was angry I destroyed my body for him.
A lot of my hobbies revolve around fashion and clothes (cosplay, Lolita fashion). Naturally, anyone of any size can do these hobbies! But for myself, being thin and easily participating in these hobbies I loved meant a lot to me. I’m the kind of person where if I look good, I feel good. It’s shallow, I know, but it’s how I am. I’d let him lead me into destroying my own body. He’d seen I was an emotional eater before I even knew what that was and leveraged it to destroy my confidence, my looks, so I would feel I’d never do better then him. He’d already convinced me my personality was too grating and confrontational and that “so many people ask me how I can stand you” during college. In hindsight, I now see all of this was calculated. Whether it was malicious or not, I don’t know. And at this point I don’t care.
After Memorial Day of 2020, I decided to start losing weight. I felt okay enough to think about it. My mental health was still an absolute mess. I still had fits of rage over everything that happened in the privacy of my room. But I felt I needed to start. I weighed myself: still 225 pounds. I had 100 pounds to lose before returning to my pre-relationship weight. The same weight I’d been since I was 15. It felt impossible. But you have to start somewhere, don’t you? I started by reducing how much I ate out. I weighed myself weekly, letting my mom know. I started working out.
The real breakthrough moment happened shortly after the 4th of July.
End of June my parents took a 2-week trip. During those 2 weeks I didn’t work out at all. I pretty much was lazy and half-heartedly tracking my calories on LoseIt. When we started back, I forgot my workout DVD. My mom suggested we do her workout DVD. I refused because, to be blunt, I hate her workout DVD. It’s a solid workout, don’t get me wrong, but it feels very boring, the music is uninspired… yeah. We got into a big fight over it and I went home and did my workout on my own. The next day I had a dentist appointment and my dad called to talk to me. He berated me over mine and my mom’s argument and told me to apologize. Not only that, he told me if I didn’t get serious I would just be wasting her time and mine and I would remain fat.
I went home in tears (I have a way with worlds thanks to him, if you catch my drift). All the pain and misery of my breakup washed over me and drowned me. I was silently screaming in the shower for almost an hour, to the point I almost blacked out from a lack of air. But laying there with the cold water running over me, I finally felt my heart speak to me.
‘I cannot live like this anymore.’
I just couldn’t. I was trapped in my own body and mind. I had no confidence. I hated how I looked in the mirror so much I wanted to punch it until it was in pieces and my hands were bloody. The trauma of my past (I won’t go into it, sorry) was out of control and I simply couldn’t even function on a basic level. I. Could. Not. Live. Like. This. Anymore.
But more then anything? I wanted my ex to pay for what he did to me.
And as much as I’d like to give my ex a piece of my mind and then some, I knew what the best revenge would be: to lose the weight and get my life back together. To shove in his face if we cross paths again how much better I am then him, objectively and subjectively. In fact, I’d be better then when we met because this time, I’d be healthy, not just thin. I dragged myself up from the shower floor, got out, put on my bath towel and went to work. I apologized to my mom and we hashed things out. I started looking up recipes. I logged everything I put in my mouth. EVERYTHING. If I went over? So what. Do better tomorrow.
It's been a year now since I first started. I’ve lost 60 pounds. I still have a ways to go but I’m getting close to the normal BMI range for my height. I’ve rekindled my relationships with my friends and family, all who have been very supportive. My mom says I’m her hero. My dad (who is very over weight and has been all my life) is starting to really consider losing weight himself. Three of my friends are now on their own journeys, inspired by me. It’s been hard. Often I feel I’m not losing fast enough even though that’s objectively not true. I’m finally starting to see my old self in the mirror. My mental health is still not the best but it’s far far better. I can now function in my daily life with little difficulty. I’ve started to rekindle my old hobbies and with the lockdowns finally having an end in sight, I will start to try and make new friends and expand my social circle. I know when I hit 150 I will start to date again. I have not seen or heard of my ex since summer of 2020. And I’m fine with that. Because he’s a loser who doesn’t deserve my time or attention.
I’ve re-learned a lot about myself. But more important than the weight loss was that I gained my self-respect back. That was the biggest thing my ex stripped from me. It’s been hard and I made my mistakes in the relationship, but none of them that warranted the way I was treated. Not even close.
If you read this far, thank you. This was… honestly hard to write but I knew I wanted to. I’ve gone through a box of tissues too, lol. To finish up, here is the biggest thing I learned: you are worth losing the weight. You are worth healing yourself both physically and mentally. They ARE connected, the mind and body. So please, if you’ve been thinking to lose weight, do it. It’s scary and hard but you DESERVE to respect yourself and your health. If you’re losing weight and struggling, please don’t give up. PLEASE. Remember your ‘why’ and keep going. My ‘why’ was spite and vengeance but also, really, self-respect. Whatever your ‘why’, hold onto it and keep going.
I won’t stop until I reach my goal. And to my ex? Fuck you. Fuck you with a sandpaper dildo. You deserve only what you sew. Nothing more, nothing less. And we BOTH know you sew nothing but shit, so you deserve nothing but shit. Fuck you.
We THREE know I was the hotter between your friend and I, anyway.
TL;DR: Was thin all my life until my ex. Ex created an environment that encouraged emotional eating along with gaslighting me while (most likely) cheating on me. Got dumped after almost 8 years for the relationship. After 7 months post-breakup, finally had enough, got on my big-girl panties, and started CICO and working out out 5 times a week. After a year am down 60 pounds, 40 to go. And my ex can get fucked.
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