Every day when I wake up one of the first things I do is step on the scale. My mood for the day is largely determined by the number it shows. I'm not overweight. The range it usually shows is actually healthy for someone my height. I could stand to loose a few pounds, but I'm not even at risk of being overweight. But I'm not skinny. I'm certainly not fat, but I'm not skinny. However, I do work out at least a bit every day, and I do eat healthy most of the time. I have a healthy body. So why do I hate it?
I actually know the answer to this one. It's because of what I see around me. It's because of the skinny women in magazines photoshopped to be even skinnier than they are. It's because of the models that are anorexic, and so skinny that they're unhealthy. It's because society tells me that I should look like that. It tells every girl and women that they should look like that.
I've been told from a very young age that to be beautiful I had to be skinny. And, of course, being beautiful was one of the most important things for me. I've had issues with myself since I was very young. I ended up with a big belly when I was pretty young, which was largely in my genes. My mom had (and still has) one too, and she'd always complain about it. I remember being confused about why she hated it, but soon learned that it wasn't a good thing, despite the fact that I honestly didn't mind it, and it was fun to poke it and watch it jiggle.
I was 8 when I first started wishing it was gone. I was 10 when a female family member told me not to eat too much chex mix because it was fattening. At 11 I started lying about my weight. By the time I was 12 I was comparing calories and fat content on everything I bought. That year I went on my first diet. All it really was was me not eating sugar or dairy for 2 months. I was strict about it, despite any cravings I had, and when the 2 months was over I binged right away, eating at least half a pint of ice cream a day for the next week. I bought nutella and hid it in my room and made sure my parents didn't know. My sugar binge was over within a week, but in that short time I had gained back everything I had lost and then some. I hated myself for it.
I was 13 when I found my best friend had an eating disorder. She never ate lunch at school, and always claimed not to be hungry. It took me a while to realize she was barely eating at all. I couldn't understand it. She was so much skinnier than I was, and she still called herself fat. It made me question myself even more than I already did. I'd make her eat half of my lunch every day, and supported her through every pound she gained. She'd call herself fat so much, and I had to be there to tell her that she was still skinny and beautiful. But if she was fat, what was I? I knew I wasn't skinny, but I also knew I wasn't fat. Or at least I thought I wasn't. Was I?
I was 14 when I developed my own eating disorder. It was after a close friend of mine had died, and I got pretty depressed. I skipped meals because I didn't feel like eating, and just lived off of green tea. Then I noticed I was losing weight. After a while my friends noticed that I wasn't eating and started making sure I ate. What they didn't and still don't know is that after I ate lunch I would go throw up or overexercise and then not eat dinner or breakfast. I lost a good 20 pounds in a month. It took me a while to realize that this wasn't doing me any good. I was constantly hungry, and I missed food. So I started breaking my habits. I went out for ice cream with some friends and then sat and watched tv after. I ate dinner and breakfast. I made sure that when I worked out I stopped when I should. And I gained back all the weight. I somehow managed to fix myself, and while I hated the pounds I had gained back, I knew I was healthier.
I was 15 when I stopped completely hating myself. I've only been 15 for 3 months. I still have so many moments when I hate my body. I hate my belly, I hate how short I am, I hate my thighs, I hate that I can never look like the girls in the magazines because my body isn't built like that. But I've accepted that I have a big belly and thighs that don't have a gap. I've accepted that I'll never be as skinny and pretty as the girls in the magazines. I let myself eat sweets and fattening foods and I don't hate myself for it most of the time. I let myself have lazy days when I'm too busy to work out, and when the scale displays a higher number than it did the day before, I'm okay with it. There's no point in hating myself all day. It won't change anything. That being said, when it displays a lower number, I spend the day in a much better mood. My confidence goes up, and I'm happy all day if nothing goes wrong. As much as I hate my body, I love it too, and I have a better relationship with it then I've had in years. And despite the fact that I'm at my heaviest since 7th grade, I'm healthier than I've been in a long time.
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