“In 2010, at the lowest point in my adult life, I was looking everywhere for relief/comfort/distraction. And I turned to food. It could have been anything. Drugs. Alcohol. Sex. But eating became the one thing I could look forward to. Count on to get me through. There were stretches when the highlight of my week was a favorite meal and a new episode of TOP CHEF. Sometimes that was enough. Had to be.”
I feel this SO HARD. When I was depressed, isolated, suffering… there were absolutely times when eating was my only joy. “Get out of bed, you’ve got popsicles in the freezer!” No joke. At the time, I struggled with compulsivity and impulsivity as well. Sometimes this was food related, sometimes drug and alcohol related. Sometimes I’m just relieved I survived that part. Thank Big Pharma for the dozen or so meds that saved my life. Feeling unworthy, unloved, out of control, and completely lost… I gained about 100 pounds in just a few years. And I didn’t give a fuck that I was getting fat. In fact, deep down, I liked it. It felt comfortable and soft. People stopped looking at me and I felt hidden and safe.
I am not ashamed of this. There is no moral value tied to the size of your body. And before you say “but their HEALLLLLLLTH!”. There is no moral value tied to your health. Being unhealthy does not make you unworthy. You are valuable, loved and deserving of everything good in life whether you are thin or fat or use the treadmill every day or have trouble with a set of stairs or run marathons or use a motorized chair because your weight makes it difficult to walk very far. You are valuable, loved, and deserving of everything good in life no matter what your eating habits are, whether you follow a strict diet or eat whatever you want or you watch your carbs or eat ice cream every day or prepare all your own food from scratch or eat everything from a carton or make sure to get your rainbow of fruits or count ketchup as a veggie.
You are valuable, loved, and deserving of everything good in life.
“Now, when I see that image of me in my red t-shirt, a rare smile on my face, I am reminded of my struggle. My endurance and my perseverance in the face of all kinds of demons. Some within. Some without.
Like a dandelion up through the pavement, I persist.
Anyway. Still. Despite.”
Today, I love my body because it survived what I put it through. I see the stretch marks, the saggy skin, the big belly, the scars, and they are all evidence of who I am, where I’ve been, what I’ve come through. It’s not easy to love it all the time but I do. Loving it means I can take care of it. We don’t take good care of things we hate. I love my fat, old body. If I stay this size forever, if I grow or if I shrink, I will continue to love it.
Anyway. Still. Despite. Yes.