Most of the time on this blog, I share stories or observations with some sass and snark. But sometimes, I need to be serious. This is one of those times.
This is a very vulnerable post for me, so please be kind.
I struggle with body image.
It’s hard to admit. And at 5’6″ and 120-ish pounds, I know it sounds kinda ridiculous … But it’s true. Some days, I still feel like the fat girl I used to be—or at least the one I used to feel like.
I was a chubby baby. As a kid, I was tall for my age and probably about average weight, although chubbier some years more than others.
It got worse in high school and college, especially when I started drinking. I definitely gained the freshman 15 … and sophomore 15, junior 15, and senior 15. By the time I graduated, I was puffy and bloated with a beer belly.
It wasn’t pretty.
I continued to struggle with my weight in my 20s and 30s, especially after having kids. I also struggled with C-PTSD and early menopause during that time, which I handled (poorly, btw) by drinking and overeating.
Again, it wasn’t pretty.
By 40, I had had enough. I joined a gym, hired a trainer, and started working with a therapist. To say it was life-changing is an understatement. It transformed my life—mentally and physically—and I fell in love with fitness and being kinder to myself.
Five years ago, I had a major setback when I was unknowingly living in a house with toxic mold. I gained 60 pounds virtually overnight and fell into a depressed state about my body. It took over a year to diagnose and another year to detox, but I’m back to feeling healthy and strong.
At 53, I’m not where I was pre-mold, but I’m also no longer hiding. I’m back in the gym, where I feel my most confident and strong. I feel comfortably in my clothes and body again—for the most part, anyway.
If I’m being totally honest, sometimes I look in the mirror and still see that mold-infested fat girl, with 60 extra pounds and clothes that are busting at the seams. I know it’s absurd. I know I’m not fat. Far from it, in fact. But I still feel this way sometimes.
For what it’s worth, I do not qualify for the official clinical diagnosis of body dysmorphic disorder, or BDD. It’s not a daily obsession. It doesn’t negatively impact my ability to function or complete everyday tasks. But, some days and weeks, I am more preoccupied with my body than I should be. I think many of us are.
Some of it is internal. A hold-over from my experience with early sexual abuse and the resulting C-PTSD. But I also believe some of it is external. Societal pressure, for sure, and how we as women are conditioned to think. But also—and hear me out on this—I partially blame the injustice of the mirror manufacturing industry. In some, I look lean and statuesque (love this for me!), while in others, I’m thick and stout. Seriously, WTF?!
Case in point: I take a 5 AM group fitness class on Tuesdays and Thursdays at the Y. The wall mirror on the right side of the room is far more flattering than the one on the left. For someone with body image issues, that really messes with your head—especially so early in the morning!
Needless to say, I prefer to be on the right side of the room. (Sorry, Carmen.)
Body dysmorphia and body image issues are real, and no one is immune. Give people grace. I’m still working on that for myself. On the days when I’m not feeling it, I’m trying to be gentler with myself. And on the days when I am feeling it, watch out because this bitch has been through some shit and I’m not quitting just yet.
—LJDT
P.S. I hope this is unnecessary to state, but I do not call other people fat. That is a term I use for myself when I’m being unkind to myself. In no way is this a judgment on others. Quite the opposite, in fact.
I am somewhat in the same boat. I work with women everyday who are in the same boat. Wonderful to hear we are not alone. Women need to be more available for each other. Reading your words will help others.. Lauren you are beautiful.
Thank you, Kim. We’ve been conditioned this way, so it’s a lot of unlearning … and it takes time.