"And you take me the way I am..."

Sometimes the people who mean to do the best for you end up doing the worst, not realizing the constant stream of conflicting comments only create a bigger and more complex monster. Ever since I could remember my mother chirps in with the weight comments, good and bad. I honestly don't think she was consciously trying to hurt me, just one of those thoughtless off the cuff remarks. I remember growing up my mother making comments about my short chubby little legs or my butt, especially around puberty (which is a bitch in my family) I like most girls, added some chubbyness on top of my already growing 'ackward preteen' resume. I remember playing by the pool with one of my best girl friends (who happened to be a string bean all through school) and doing a split, "your fats hanging out of the side". When all my girlfreinds took up ballet in JR high school, I wanted to go too, "you can't do that, you're too fat". I wasn't ballet material for numerous reasons, and I'm sure that the required leotard would've been less than flattering, but I was by no means a living breathing weeble wobble. Once the summer before my freshman year of high school rolled around I figured out the magic of calorie restricting, I was never good at math, but I knew that if I kept my daily caloric intake around 500 and did that same amount of crunches, I know longer was the proud owner of the ackward preteen chub.

Through out my freshman year I did not crack 100 lbs, hitting my lowest point at 86 lbs. It sounds horrifying, but given that I'm very petite I was able to hide it easier. Through out high school my weight yo yo'd going from my lowest of 86 lbs to 125 lbs when I graduated, which is considered healthy for 5'4". The boyfriend I had in high school was not particularly helpful to my weight obsession, I suppose when you take on unhealthy habits or lifestyles, you in turn attract unhealthy people. I had dated him for many years, when we started dating I was still in my very thin stage, and once I became with in a 'normal' weight range the comments from him would start. I have a lot of food allergies (which probably only exaserbates my anxiety with food) and had a very limited menu that I could eat from at the lunch room at school, which mainly consisted of chips and a drink. We would be sitting with my friends and when I went to open my bag of chips, he'd snatch them away from me and say 'you don't need to eat those'. Eventually we ended up sitting by ourselves during lunch ... gee I wonder why ....

After highschool we broke up, by my relationships with men that were less than healthy seemed to be a running theme. It wasn't until I met my now husband that I can honestly say that I'm in a healthy, loving and supportive relationship with someone who is my best friend. My poor husband knows that I'm sick, but I don't think that he knows what to do with it. I don't know what to do with it. I don't think that I look particularly sick, but my anxiety around food and eating is over whelming. Combined with various life threatening food allergies, and now a choking episode every other time I try to eat (going back and forth to boston trying to figure out if its eosinophilic esophagitis or very aggressive acid reflux), trying to eat is torture. I eat whatever I want, but I torture myself mentally over it and go to the gym every day that is physically possible, and when I don't I get physically ill. I obsess over what size clothes I am, which every woman knows is a losing battle because most companies have different ways of cutting clothes, so you might be one size in one store, then 4 sizes bigger in another. How good I feel on any particular day depends on how fat I feel.



I don't think I need to state the obvious here, That dress is a size 0 and its baggy ... not attractive


I don't think that I fit any one particular eating disorder category, I'm in eating disorder pergatory. I don't binge, I don't puke, I eat very little, but I don't consciously restrict, and I'm obsessed with the gym. I just absolutely adore the feeling of being tiny. I think a part of it is a control issue, I've had so many (non related) health issues, and an anxiety disorder, that being able to control my size is one thing that brings me comfort, and getting any type of therapy or treatment to me means taking away my security blanket.

I have two beautiful children, my son is four and my daughter is 10 months. I gained 50 lbs each time, and for anyone with a eating disorder the comments of "OH.MY.GOD.YOU HAVE HOW MUCH LONGER LEFT?!" "ARE YOU HAVING TWINS??" isn't exactly reassuring. When you lose all the baby weight and then the back handed compliments start coming in ... "you look great, just don't lose anymore weight" .... nice. I was able to stop my weight obsession cold turkey when I was pregnant both times, I think I felt safe because I had carte blanche to gain weight with out too much self hatred and guilt, because after all, I was growing a human. It's always been one or the other, either I look a little chubby or "are you eating""what is it your eating" ... when people start harassing me about my diet I just shut down, its kind of like a double edged sword, I always want to be the littlest one, yet I don't want the comments that go with it.






I know how harmful my mothers comments were to me, and I consciously don't pick at myself or make negative comments around my children, and I tell both my children that they're gorgeous every day. My daughter is very very tall, she's 10 months old and has been wearing size 18 months since she was 8 months old. I've gotten after people, particularly my mother, about comments like "beast" and "giant" .... no she's a 'supermodel' or just plain old 'beautiful girl' will do. I know that I will never ever ever make comments about my daughters body, and will not stand for anyone doing it either. My mother and grandmother are always very critical of their own bodies, and when some one you love and look up to says bad things about their own bodies, as a child, you think they are perfect, and you came from them ... so you think ... 'if they think they're fat and ugly, I must be too'.

So whats the moral of the story here? I'm not sure exactly. I know that I'm floating around in eating disorder pergatory with my 'security blanket' of body image obsession, yet it can make me so miserable. I know I'm going to fight like hell to make sure my daughter knows how gorgeous she is, and to make sure my son treats every woman with dignity and respect, and love her for who she is. Now I'm at my pre baby weight, but my old clothes aren't quite fitting the same and my body has changed ... lets just say that losing a total of 100 baby lbs can cause some sagging ... and drooping ... *I feel pretty**oh so pretty* ....so now besides the numbers on the scale, I have a whole new area to obsess about, and unfortunately the only way to fix those particular problems I'd have to visit Dr.Nip/Tuck because no amount of excersize can get rid of extra skin.




My husband, my best friend, my heart



I go through highs and lows of my own self image, if I make a conscious effort to compliment myself and try to feel good, then I do feel better, but it is a lot of work after almost 20 years of self loathing, and sometimes my efforts get lost between working a full time job, doing laundry, cleaning the house and changing diapers. Am I better than I was, yes. Will I ever be 'cured', probably not. It's like recovering from any other 'addiction' whether it be drugs,alcohol, etc, its an on going effort, some days are better than others. My husband and babies keep me from falling off the edge, because I know that they need me, even if I don't think I'm all that important, at the end of the day my husband needs his wife, and my babies need their mommy.



It's never too early to tell her she's beautiful, just the way she is