Trying to lose weight is exhausting and completely all-consuming. The weight goal was all I really thought about. All of this focus on body size made me miss out on actually living my life. The most ironic thing, though, was that even when I finally reached that ultimate number on the scale, I was still totally dissatisfied.
- There’s ridiculous societal pressure to conform to beauty standards. I wasn’t born with the desire to look a certain way. I mean, think of babies! They’re super body positive. They let it all hang out and they couldn’t judge their bodies if they wanted to. This crap is taught to us. I read in Jes Baker’s book Things No One Will Tell Fat Girls that 81% of 10-year-old girls are afraid of being fat — more afraid than they are of cancer, war, or losing both of their parents. That’s totally heartbreaking, but I also completely get it.
- I was looking to finally feel “good enough.” I hadn’t felt comfortable in my skin for as long as I could remember. It didn’t really matter what weight I was; no amount of manipulating my body fixed the hate I had inside. I thought that finally getting to a certain size would mean that I’d feel worthwhile, like I belonged on this earth, but it didn’t. Nothing was ever enough.
- Contentment can’t be found in a number on the scale. The problem with looking for fulfillment outside of myself was that the chase made contentment elusive. I could chase and chase, but it’d be just out of reach. The lovely Henry Thoreau said, “Happiness is like a butterfly: the more you chase it, the more it will elude you; but if you turn your attention to other things, it will come and sit softly on your shoulder.” I was chasing that butterfly of weight loss while happiness was waiting to sit on my shoulder all along.
- When I finally got to my goal weight, I wanted to lose more. The irony was that all I focused on for months and years was to get to a certain goal weight. I finally hit that target and there was no celebration. There wasn’t a sudden rush of self-love. Rather, I set my sights on the next goal weight. I was off and running again. It wasn’t until a dear friend said to me, “But, when will the weight loss ever be enough? What weight is ‘enough’?” that I realized there was a problem. There was never going to be a point in chasing weight loss where enough was enough.
- I mistakenly believed losing weight would fix all of my self-hate. Despite getting to that point where I was my “ideal” weight, all of the self-hatred remained. I still felt unlovable, unworthy, ugly, and gross. All I could see were my imperfections. You see, this is how diet culture keeps us on the hook. The more I hate myself, the more money they make. Self-hate is wildly profitable because it means I’ll buy more products and services to try to fix what I perceive to be broken.
- I masked disordered eating by calling it “getting healthy.” Diet culture is scary. You see, we’ve mostly stopped using the word “diet.” We learned that diets don’t work in the long-term. Instead, they’re being called healthy lifestyles, “clean eating,” cleanse, or a fix. It’s the same BS but a different mask.
- I thought I could stay the same size forever. I learned the hard way from body positive author Lauren Marie Fleming that “statistics show over 45 million Americans will go on a diet at some point each year. All but five percent of them will gain the weight back in a year, and all but three percent of them will gain the weight back plus some extra in three years.” I’ve since gained a whole lot of weight and it’s likely that my setpoint is now higher as a direct result of dieting.
- I thought I couldn’t find a lover until I looked a certain way. One of the saddest parts of riding the diet train was how it affected my love life. I never felt like “enough” for a lover. I always felt like something was wildly wrong with me. This went deeper than body image, it almost felt like my spirit was broken. I wanted so badly to look a certain way. It was awful because even when I did finally look that way, body dysmorphia ruined any chance at enjoying it.
- I was constantly worried about what others thought of me. It’s really an exhausting thing to be incessantly worrying about what everyone else thinks. I wanted to give a disclaimer to anyone I dated or was around that my body was in progress. I suppose I did do this by talking about how gross and fat I was whenever I had the chance. I really lived in the chains of obsession about others opinions, even when I hit my goal.
- All of the obsessing and hating eventually led me to body positivity. Looking back, there was so much damn pain in holding onto a diet and workout regiment. My life was so small because all I ever thought about was shaping my body into what I perceived as “good enough.” Eventually, this thinking totally suffocated me and I couldn’t take it anymore. I found my way to body positivity which has utterly saved my life. It’s helped me to build a genuine sense of self-love and trust that is not based on a number on the scale. Actually, I’ve thrown out all of my scales. I’ve stopped restricting and I’ve let go. I’ve never been freer.
- I’ve now learned that the only way to truly heal is through completely letting go. I’ve ascribed to the “health at every size” way of being now. Rather than being laser-focused on just my physical body, I pay attention to my mental, emotional, and spiritual health. I see myself as a whole person who deserves love and care, no matter my size. I’m a whole lot heavier than when I hit that “goal weight,” but now my worth comes from within. I know that I’m lovable, desirable, and so worthy. I stick my middle finger up to the diet culture that stole my happiness from me.