Beautiful. What a loaded word for me. Maybe also a loaded word for you? I hope not, but all too often it is. My relationship with my body has always been complicated. I grew up with a mother that prized my appearance, to me it felt that was the only thing she liked about me. Saying things like “someone ate like their father this summer” – a heavy set man, growing up to look like my father (which I very much ended up doing) would be such a shame. A shame to be large, a shame to take up space, a shame to not be a skinny, pretty girl. The messages were constant, and I internalized it all. If I was “pretty” (essentially a euphemism for skinny), then I had value. My eating disorders started at age 6. Hiding food in my pockets at the dinner table to throw out my bedroom window, pushing food around on my plate. By age 9 I was going through spurts of starving myself. Sometimes in my teens I would go days without eating and occasionally pass out, other times I would let myself eat only to throw up my food to the point of canker sores and breakouts. No matter the number on the scale, it wasn’t low enough. After having my daughters, a switch flipped inside of me where I realized I couldn’t be holding my baby and pass out from not eating…I also wanted more than anything, for my kids to grow up with a healthy body image. Unfortunately, the issues with food are a symptom, not the cause of my pain. And I swung to the other side of the pendulum…gaining copious amounts of weight. Only recently I realized how much I use this extra weight as protection. My whole life growing up, my looks generated attention. I would walk in a room and men would notice. I would talk to a male friend, and their girlfriend would notice. Sometimes that attention put my safety at risk, other times that attention was the only validation I got that I was worth something – both of which make me so sad now looking back. And here I am now, a heavy woman….I feel invisible and it feels safe. I can laugh as hard as I want at a male friend’s joke because there is no jealousy projected onto me. I can just be my goofy, silly self – no perceived agenda. I know this is a societal problem, but it doesn’t make it any less true. So here I am…27 years into my disordered eating issues, I have become the heavy set woman my mother always feared, and there are much worse things. I have two incredible, healthy (emotionally, mentally, physically - healthy!) loving daughters and a husband that has loved me from sizes 0-22. I am surrounded by friends that see my beauty from my heart. I have a full life. And though I do need to work on this piece, I am finally learning that I have value, beyond my shell. And so do you, please be kind to yourself. -Amanda
