Yesterday morning I weighed myself. I gained two pounds so far over this holiday break. All I keep thinking about since then is the number, 2. My weight is a sensitive topic for me ever since I was a child. It could stem from the fact that when I was 7, a family member put me on a diet. I only ate Smart Ones meals and exercised Monday-Saturday on the treadmill for one straight hour, immediately after I came home from school. Sundays were my day off. I still had to eat Smart Ones meals, but I didn’t have to exercise. I loved Sundays. I was allowed to drink tea on those days. Sundays were the best.
The food regimen was not approved by or even brought on by a physician. This family member thought because I was an overweight child, not anywhere close to being obese just overweight; I could only eat Smart Ones and thus had to restrict my calories. I can’t remember if I was starving or if I was allowed to eat sweets during this long period. All I remember is that I grew tired of Smart Ones, and still today you cannot pay me enough to eat them.
I went from an overweight child to being considered underweight based on my BMI. My grandmother was completely shocked the next time she saw me a year later. My eyes were sunken in with dark circles around them and my face gaunt. The processed frozen meals were not giving me enough nourishment. I don’t understand why no one in my family was concerned about this. What my theory is, and this is going to probably sound crazy, but I think because in the black community obesity seems to me, more prevalent. So to my family members, because I was no longer considered overweight, that is all that matters. It didn’t matter how I became skinny, just that I got there.
So honestly ever since then my weight has been an issue. I went from an overweight child, to skinny, to a normal weight in junior and high school, to gaining 30 pounds my freshman year of college. So my weight has fluctuated. Thus, is why my stomach, thighs, and armpit region have stretch marks. Marks that I’m very much embarrassed about and has negatively effected me in the bedroom today.
I have an unhealthy relationship with food. I LOVE sweets. I could eat ice-cream everyday of my life and never grow tired of it. A burger and fry is like crack to me. My sophomore year of college, I developed tendencies of a Binge Eating Disorder. I would restrict my calories for a day or two, then overeat for a day or two, then start the cycle again. I would lose a couple of pounds in the beginning of the week and gain it all back again at the end of it.
It didn’t help that ever since I was a child, a close relative would nag me about my weight. When I wouldn’t see them for a while the first thing she would say to me was, “You gained weight.” or “You lost weight, you look good.”. I always felt this need and still today to lose weight because it made other people happy. For some reason, I remembered how in junior high when I visited my cousin in Colorado for the summer, a boy said that he didn’t like me because I was fat but instead liked my cousin because she was skinny. But I had a pretty face though, he said. So that made up for it.
I was a very sensitive child in general, even more about my weight, but his words affected me. I became more self-conscious. Wore baggy clothes to hide my pudginess. I haven’t thought about this memory since I was a child. But I will say that it didn’t help my self-esteem during the time. Food is my friend and comfort. It’s there for me when I’m sad, when I’m happy, when I’m anxious, when I’m angry. It never judges me. I know it’s wrong. But damn it feels and tastes so good.
Nowadays I’m seeing a Dietitian. Hoping I can change my relationship with food. I have some goals with her that I’m working on. I was doing good for a while, but I fell off the wagon. I would email her everyday to send her my food log, so I could be accountable. I was supposed to implement 5 to 6 small meals a day. I haven’t emailed her for a few weeks now. The holidays have been hard for me. I’m too embarrassed to email her now for two reasons. The fact that I haven’t been implementing my food goals, and the fact that there has been silence on my part. Maybe I will email her tonight and be completely honest. What is the worst thing that could happen? She will think I’m a failure and can never change? I can accept that. Sometimes I feel that way myself.
2017 is right around the corner. I’m so freaking tired of being fat. Every bite I take I wonder if its one step away from being a happy, skinny Falyn. I’m starting to become anxious eating anything. Which is not a good thing at all. Everyone says that I’m curvy and sexy. How am I curvy and sexy? I look at my body, and see disgusting love handles and a fat stomach. Where is the skinny, happy, and healthy Falyn? Does she even exist in me? I don’t know.
All I know is that I’m the number, 2.