When I was a kid I was always quite a chubster. My mum used to say to me that most of it was “puppy fat” – that when I got older I would stretch out and become thinner, and then I would have the body I always wanted. Well, as I got taller there was a fair amount of chunk still there, and now as an adult the only time I will ever be wearing a size 8 is in shoes. Naturally, I assumed there was something wrong with me, and have now finally been looking into my body dysmorphia in order to tackle my problems head on!
I’m not going to lie, I love food. I eat a lot. My dad’s side of the family are huge foodies, and I’ve emulated that my whole life. I used to eat a very unhealthy amount in a very unhealthy way. Food was my coping mechanism for a lot of issues in life. I was bullied relentlessly at high school for my weight, looks, anything that I did really. I could easily write a huge exposé on all the shit heads I went to high school with who have fucked up my self perception forever. It’s a vicious cycle we’ve all heard before. Bullied for being overweight, eat to cope, gain weight, feel sad, eat more…
After my first semester at uni I was the heaviest I had ever been, and a list of health problems longer than I had experienced before. I would go home to visit and was shamed by a member of my family (hi mum, yes this is about you), tormented night and day about how disgusting I was. My mother had commented on my weight throughout my life, saying I was too fat along with the bullies at school. When it’s your own parent agreeing with the hormone riddled kids at school, you’re more inclined to believe it. Now that I had put more weight on, I was never free from it. My dad’s side of the family never said a word, despite noticing, and admit they too were absolutely repulsed by the way my mother was acting. The saga of my issues with my mother is one that is novel worthy, but as I’ve gotten older I’ve luckily been able to understand why she acts out of line at times. I do need to mention I still love her with all my heart, she’s just very complicated.
I was determined at this point to silence the noise, and over the next 3 months through a dramatic change in diet (heelllloooo veganism) and exercise I dropped an insane 3 and a half stone. This would take me to my lowest weight, which is actually only roughly 5 pounds off of my current weight. My chest pains were gone, my blood pressure shot down, and I discovered I was actually lactose intolerant the whole time! This sounds amazing right? My family and friends were shocked by the transformation and applauded my efforts at every chance.
Well, it actually wasn’t great.
Guess who fell victim to the dieting marketing??? It’s me, ya boi!
For 3 months I was replacing one meal a day with hunger suppression pills. I also tried out detox teas, but didn’t follow the instructions properly.
Side note: dieting teas don’t work they’re a huge scam of course you lose weight when you’re dehydrated to shit!
Every second day the instructions called for the consumption of a night time tea. There’s no cute way to say this, that tea was essentially a laxative. I quickly put the 2 and 2 together of this was what was causing my stomach to be less bloated, so I only drank the night teas. Twice a day. Every day. I was constantly dehydrated and miserable, but the weight did fall off. Funny how abusing laxatives will do that to you, huh?
Despite all of this I still wasn’t hitting a healthy BMI. I was OBSESSED with my BMI! I actually checked mine out this morning and apparently I need to lose another 2 and a half stone to even get into the green category…nae thanks! I don’t know what eventually brought me to the conclusion I was acting like a nut case, but after that huge initial weight loss I cut back on the bonkers methods and just focused on keeping my diet. Veganism is the greatest thing I have ever done (personally I’m not about to start converting), and I’ll never look back on it.
This was all about 3 years ago, and since then my relationship with my body has been very up and down. My weight fluctuates all the time (yknow cause that’s how bodies work), and I’ve went through some pretty scary phases in terms of self loathing. I will admit a good 4 or 5 people I’ve had sex with I’ve merely thrown myself at just to feel attractive, which has resulted in me feeling even worse about myself. Last year I was weighing myself up to 8 times a day. I’ve now had to throw the scales in the cupboard to avoid the self torture. Roughly 6 times a day at work and at home I grabbed pieces of myself in the mirror, and whenever I was clothes shopping and have to go up a size I would cry over it and not buy the item (99.9% of the time this would be jeans). As you can imagine, this has been pretty exhausting.
I don’t know what about 2018 sparked a change in me. I say 2018, it’s really been over the summer. I’m pretty sure it started with the first time I wore a cropped top outside. I went out with a friend, who took a look at what I was wearing and started screaming with joy. It was nothing exciting, my outfit was all black, but she would not stop talking about how much it suited me. I started to take more time into coordinating outfits, and watched a lot of videos on how different clothes shop will interpret a different size. It all started to make sense! They say that Marilyn Monroe herself, possibly the most beautiful woman to have existed, was a size 16. Yes, in her day. Clothes sizes then dramatically changed, so I hate to break it to you but the clothes she wore then as a size 16 would now be our size 8. That’s how much these numbers don’t matter!! I also started removing labels off my clothes, which I would highly recommend. Once you remove the label it’s now your size, not a 12, 14, 16 etc.
I admit I still look in mirrors a lot, and still check to see whether I’ve put on 4 stone overnight. I sometimes worry about seeing my mother in case she comments on my weight, and I do compare my body a lot to even the curvy girls. I myself am a size 12/14, which big boobs, and bit of a tummy and thick thighs. However, I can look at myself naked now and actually dig it. I have curves that I love, parts of my body I know others have surgery just to look like me. Getting tattooed help me to love my body more, as I’m colourful and stand out and love to show them off. Even if that means getting my legs out! I will end this post with a photo I took last week and sent to my boyfriend that I have become completely obsessed with. Feel free to let me know how good my arse looks, cause believe me I already fucking know!