When I first attempted real recovery in 2007, I still told myself that I would never let myself get fat. “I’ll never go above 90 pounds.” I even managed to convince my dietician that 90 pounds was a good mutual compromise, and 90 pounds, from then on, was my set point (I don’t really know if it’s my healthy set point, but I know that was my average weight before my ED ever began, standing at 5’0.)
And then REAL recovery happened. I started going to multiple meetings weekly and stopped weighing myself all together. I couldn’t let my recovery be based on what I wanted, because if it were up to me, I would have stayed a certain weight and killed myself in recovery trying to maintain it. And I couldn’t let myself be ruled with rules anymore, because recovery was about being able to mindfully eat and let my body do it’s thing.
So when I reached 95 pounds, although I tried to have a positive outlook on it, I secretly said, “Never above 95!” And then I reached 100 pounds, and it was a little harder to convince myself that that was okay.
Clothes started fitting differently. Bones that were once there were covered. And when my sister-in-law (the same one from the previous entry) saw me in a bathing suit, she said, “If you gain ten more pounds you’ll need to start hitting the gym.”
So I promised myself, “NEVER ABOVE 100!”
But then I got lazy with food, and up and up my weight went, all the way up to 110 pounds, the highest weight I had ever been in my life.
I no longer wore a size 0, or 1, or even a size 3. I looked at photos of myself for a photoshoot and realized just how big I had become. I was soft, curvy, and pudgy. And even though the average person wouldn’t say I was fat, people still noticed. On facebook people would say how much healthier I looked, and that my face was fatter, but that was “okay” because it “looked good.”
The straw that broke the camel’s back was seeing a picture of myself at my husband’s MA ceremony, standing in a short dress, thighs touching and looking much too big for my 5’0 frame. Enough was enough, and I started the diet .
I look back on that time, and it was “when I was fat.” I broke my number one rule and let myself go. And now, 30 pounds down from my highest weight, I never want to go back to that girl again. I never want to be a fat girl again. And the promises start over: