How I'm Improving My Relationship with Food

I’m a short woman; at 5”2’ I get mistaken for a teenager nearly every time I’m in a public area. This also means that if I gain weight, it is very obvious - as there’s not much space for the weight to travel to. When I was 19, I decided to start getting in shape and would compare myself to Victoria’s Secret models who were way taller than I was with completely different body types. I naturally weigh between 120-125 pounds, but during this time of “getting in shape”, I dropped to 100.

I was eating very little, and was obsessive over what went into my body. I labeled meat as “bad” because it would make me gain weight quicker, and I freaked out if I ate a single Hershey’s kiss. The meals I had every day were pretty much the same: a small bowl of oats with berries before I went running, eggs with spinach for after running, toast with almond butter and sliced bananas on top with an apple for lunch, some sort of snack like nuts and fruit, then dinner would typically be rice and beans with avocado. Not entirely bad, but I was obsessive about it. Anything that wasn’t these foods would send me into an anxious spiral. I was determined to get a flat stomach since that was my biggest insecurity, along with the coveted thigh-gap. I wanted my chubby face to thin out, and it surely did as I plummeted 20 pounds below my normal weight.

I often went to bed hungry, didn’t indulge in any sort of holiday treats, and would tell myself I didn’t deserve to take a shower until I exercised enough. I would cry if my stomach stuck out from bloat because I thought the weight was coming back. It was all-consuming, and I genuinely hated my body. “Why can’t I be tall?” I thought. “That way my weight would distribute more evenly. Why do I have to be short with big thighs and a round face?”

Then eventually, I gained all the weight back and more thanks to both exhaustion from keeping up this lifestyle, and studying abroad. I was pushing 140 pounds. My face was bulging, I waddled when I walked, and I cried myself to sleep nearly every night out of self-hatred. All that running and food restriction was for nothing, in my mind. And now I felt even worse.

The weight slowly fell off naturally as I got back to normal eating habits, but I felt wholly unlike myself as I walked around feeling like this heavy penguin waddling around campus. I was afraid to eat anything sweet or indulgent in fear of putting on more weight. I was embarrassed to go to the gym because I was bulging out of my workout clothes. Men didn’t look at me. I was comparing myself to the other girls on campus who were skinnier than me and more beautiful. I hated myself and just wanted to hide in my dorm room.

Although this has gotten better over the years, I do still have moments of hating my body. It’s beginning to creep back and I have to remind myself not to think so badly about my own body. It’s healthy, it’s functioning, all my limbs are intact - it’s a perfect specimen. But when I look in the mirror, I see a round girl who looks awkward in her clothes and can’t enjoy an ice cream without wanting to cry out of guilt.

I’ve been talking to my therapist about this so I know I can get help through these negative thought patterns. It’s refreshing to have my therapist’s input and expertise so I can have a healthier relationship with my body, instead of feeling anxious anytime I eat food I don’t see as “healthy.” She tells me to journal after I eat, especially if I'm noticing irrational thoughts flood through my head when I eat something like a cookie, cheese, or burger. I want to eat without feeling guilty. I want to enjoy a cookie, some cheese, or a burger and not feel bad about myself and check my body in the mirror to see if I'm putting on weight. It's not a nice feeling; it doesn't allow me to enjoy my life fully.

Some days are better than others. There will be a day where I can eat a big chocolate chip cookie at the end of the day and think, "You know what, it's been a long day, I've worked hard, I deserve to eat this." Other days, I'll keep staring at the package of Oreos in the cupboard telling myself I shouldn't eat any or my face will get fat. The important thing is that I'm noticing these thoughts and actively talking about them to my therapist; I know this isn't a healthy relationship with food and I want to change it for the better.

I write this post to reach out to fellow women who, too, have struggled with their body image. We've been advertised image after image of what a woman's body "should" look like, and it does mess with us if we're not careful. I know I've succumbed to irrational body standards for myself, and I'm doing what I can to view my body with love and compassion rather than disgust and hatred. No one deserves to feel that way about themselves.

Take care of yourself and talk to someone if you need help.