Ask Aly: Losing Weight After Recovering From an Eating Disorder

Right before Justin and I got married, my eating disorder mentality came back without me even realizing it. I lost more weight than I should have (that I didn't need to lose in the first place) and I didn't notice how close I was to slipping back into my old destructive behaviors. Although that was two years ago, since then I've tried to put more effort into watching my thoughts and my actions so I can make sure it doesn't happen again. Over the past couple of years though, I've gained a little weight and I've been trying to grapple with how to exercise and eat healthier without laying out a welcome mat for my anorexia, bulimia, and binge eating disorders at the same time.

Thist past week, a friend messaged me about someone she knows that's going through the same thing and asked if I had any tips or thoughts on how they can be healthy and also lose weight, but not slip back into their eating disorders. While eating disorders might not ever go away, we shouldn't let them bully us around. If we want to be in control of our health, we need to be cautious with the steps we take to lose weight, have a pre-determined plan in our minds that we will stick to, be observant of our mental well-being, and constantly question what our motivations are behind losing weight or trying to become healthier. 

Exercising and changing your eating habits can seem terrifying once you've recovered from an eating disorder, but here are a couple ideas I shared with my friend that I think can help build a buffer between those two things and your past eating disorders: 

Avoid Numbers

• This is especially important with food. Don't focus on calorie amounts or anything you find on a nutrition label (fats, sugar, carbs). Instead, focus on the actual health benefits of the foods you eat and the nutritional values that come from food (vitamins, minerals, etc.). Ask yourself, what are the things that my body needs to survive and how do these foods support all that I need my body to do? Even foods that are considered "unhealthy" by the dieting world, can benefit your body. We need fats, proteins, sugars, carbs, and calories for our bodies to function and do everything they were made to do. Obviously, you shouldn't eat McDonald's every day, but there are healthier ways to watch what you eat without cutting calories or only eating fruits and vegetables for your meals--our bodies can gain something good from almost everything that we eat. 
• Don't weigh yourself and avoid scales as much as possible. Both can be major triggers and avoiding them can help you overcome a mentality where you believe your worth is equal to your weight. 

Avoid Portion Sizes

• Controlling the amount that we eat is usually the first idea that comes to anyone's mind whenever they want to lose weight. When I was first recovering from my binge eating disorder and wondering about how I was going to lose all the weight that I gained, my doctor told me that one of the best things I could do was to listen to my stomach as I ate. He went on to say that I should eat until I was full enough not to be stuffed or hungry. Mindfulness when eating is definitely an acquired talent, but it does help you be more aware of what your body needs since portion sizes sometimes end up being too much food or not enough food for what our bodies need.

Set Firm Limits

• Benjamin Franklin (according to the internet) once said, "By failing to prepare, you are preparing to fail." Preparation and planning are crucial when it comes to trying to lose-weight or pick up healthier habits post-eating disorder. You need to know your triggers are and be aware of the fact that you have lurking disorders that are still with you--even if you no longer restrict your diet, purge, or binge. Understanding this and using your knowledge of yourself and your disorders to construct your workouts and food habits will increase your chances of success. For instance, if I wanted to start working out and exercising consistently, I would set a limit where I could only exercise for 30 minutes a day, 5 days a week. That way, I would be able to prevent my eating disorders from pushing me to extremes. 

Avoid the Gym

• Especially if you are newly recovered from your eating disorder, avoid exercising in a gym at all costs. They usually have a competitive atmosphere and it's easier to compare your body to those around you in such an enclosed, intensely-focused space (both can be huge triggers for disordered behaviors). Instead, try to exercise in your home or outside where competition and judgment are less likely. 

Involve Friends and Family

• While not everyone has family or friends that are aware of their eating disorders, both can be valuable tools when you're trying to lose weight or start healthier habits. If you feel comfortable with it, check in regularly with a someone about how your eating and exercising plans are going. (Keeping a journal where you can record any signs of your eating disorder coming back could also work if you have not told those closest to you about your eating disorder. You can use it to track your triggers and figure out if you are in a good spot to be exercising or changing your eating habits.) Be open and honest with them and with yourself. You could even ask for friends or family members to exercise with you. However, if you do this, make sure you are aware of your thoughts and feelings when exercising with another person. If you feel competitive towards them or judgemental towards yourself, stop immediately and figure out another way to involve them in your efforts. 

Check In With Yourself

• When you are exercising or trying to eat healthier, listen to your thoughts and how you talk to yourself. Constantly ask yourself what your motivators are and why you are exercising or eating healthier. If your answers have anything to do with your appearance or weight, stop immediately and reassess your plan. Both of those motivators (along with any other motivators that are similar in nature) have nothing to do with health and everything to do with your eating disorders. 

Be Patient and Keep it Gradual

• While losing weight quickly is really unhealthy and really bad for your body (heart issues, metabolism issues, organ stress), it also makes it much easier to redevelop an eating disorder (especially anorexia and bulimia, since the goal of both disorders is to lose weight fast). So, make sure you are patient with yourself and your progress. Celebrate the small victories and use that time to learn to love your body at all shapes, weights, and sizes. It took me three years to lose the weight I gained from my binge eating disorder and I feel like I grew more from that experience than I would have if I gave into diet culture and pushed myself as hard as could to lose weight in the shortest amount of time possible. It also helped me learn to understand which thoughts were mine, and which thoughts came from my eating disorders too. Weight loss and creating healthier habits is a process, not a race. 

Learning how to navigate your body after recovering from an eating disorder can be hard! Don't be afraid of yourself or your body, but remember to be aware of your disorders. If you want to lose weight, make sure that you focus on your overall health, rather than your size. Try to focus on how the exercise you are doing makes your body stronger and how the foods you are eating will help your body reach its full potential. 

Basically, when it comes to exercise and eating healthier, the end goal shouldn't be becoming skinnier, because, like a lot of us who have recovered from eating disorders know, being skinny does not necessarily mean that you're healthy.

 In fact, it usually means the exact opposite. 

Ask Aly: Calorie Counting

Aly,
Is counting calories, in your opinion, always bad? Or can it be appropriate when the calories goals are in a healthy range? Just curious. 

Hi there!

This is actually something that I've been grappling with over the past couple of weeks, so your question couldn't have been timed better :)  I haven't completely found the answer to it yet, but let me share with you what I've come up with so far:

Counting calories is a complex topic that can't be sorted into being entirely good or bad. With that in mind, I don't think counting calories is always bad or endangering, but I also do think that it should be avoided altogether--since, in many ways, it can be a double-edged sword that can harm not only ourselves, but those around us. Even with the best intentions, calorie counting can quickly become dangerous (I would even go as far as to say that calorie counting is a type of disordered eating on its own as well). I guess the best example of what I'm talking about can be found in my own experiences with the anorexia that resulted from a calorie-deficit diet I decided start when I was a sophomore in high school. Initially, my calorie counting was "healthy"--I watched portion sizes, set what seemed to be a safe limit, and made sure I was eating healthy foods that were also lower-calorie than what I had included in my diet before. However, calorie counting eventually became an obsession and my low-calorie diet turned into a low-calorie, low-fat, low-sugar, low-carb, low-food diet as I tried to push myself to lose more and more weight. I saw calories as my enemy because I related them to being unhealthy and saw them as unwanted. Eventually, my relationships with those around me also suffered and (as crazy as this seems) my calorie counting hurt those around me too. I shamed friends and family for what they were eating and I tried to promote my calorie counting disorder as the best way to maintain a healthy lifestyle (there were also people who probably saw what I was doing and were influenced by me indirectly as well). I hate to think about it, but I'm sure the way that I talked about calories and food may have been the cause of or the justification for someone else's disorder. While calorie counting may temporarily help some people who need or want to adopt a healthier lifestyle, calorie counting placed in the wrong hands, prolonged over a significant period of time, or initiated for the wrong reasons will develop into an eating disorder.

Another problem that I've found within the context of counting calories is that it also teaches us to view food as a set of numbers rather than as a source of nutrition and it also antagonizes calories in the process. Calories are essential for our bodies to function and when we view them narrowly as numbers on a box or within the confines of a calorie limit, we detract from and forget the positive force that they are in our everyday lives. We need calories to live and to function properly. Also, calorie counting sometimes leads to the consumption of low-calorie foods that actually detract from our health instead of increasing our health. For instance, when I was counting calories, I would buy low-calorie foods from the store so that I could stay within my daily calorie limit I established. However, I didn't realize that some of those foods were low-calorie because they consisted of chemicals and artificial ingredients that did my body more harm than good. While I was staying within my calorie limit and losing weight by eating those foods, I was not necessarily becoming healthier. When I was a mentor in an eating disorder recovery group at my university, one of our meetings focused on teaching us to be aware of the nutritional values of foods and how those nutrients help our bodies, rather than focusing on calorie amounts. For example, a double cheeseburger can be around 800 calories, but it also provides around 40 grams of protein (which is essential for the growth and development of tissues in your body), along with being a good source of iron, vitamin B6, and vitamin B12. We also talked about the necessity of carbs, sugars, calories, and fats in our bodies as well. Personally, I believe this is a much healthier approach to diets and food in general. With that being said, I don't think anyone should totally ignore calories, but I do think that calories and calorie limits definitely should not be the focal point of one's relationship with food and their personal health endeavors (especially when it comes to meals that include fruits, dairy products, vegetables, meat, and/or grains). Obviously, moderation, recommended daily amounts of various nutrients, and balance are also important to take into consideration with our diets, but it is also crucial to remember that there is always something positive to be gained for our bodies from just about everything we eat--regardless of calorie amounts.

I probably feel as strongly as I do about this topic because when I recovered from my disorders, I also had to recover from calorie counting too. It fueled my disordered behaviors, my disorders themselves, and caused me to view food as something to be avoided, rather than embraced. Calorie counting is not always bad, but from my own experiences, I believe that there are better, safer ways to go about watching what one eats and controlling one's health.

All-in-all, calorie counting is a high-stakes risk that I personally would not recommend taking.

Okay.

Today, it took 30 minutes to convince myself that eating an oatmeal cream pie after eating a candy bar earlier in the day was okay.

10 minutes ago, I spit out half of a different cookie because I couldn't make myself eat the whole thing after already eating two "bad" foods today.


I'm beginning to realize that I've been lying to myself lately.


When I first started dating Justin, I was finally coming out of my eating disorder and feeling confident about my body at whatever size it was. I started to realize though that my post-disorder weight-loss was finally manifesting itself about two months into our relationship. I loved it. I loved being back to feeling healthy again. I think I loved looking "healthy" even more. It didn't start intentionally at first--cutting back at meals and eating smaller portions. It just happened gradually. I liked what I was seeing in the mirror, but with every glance at myself, my eating disorder started to fester inside of me again.

When Justin was concerned about me not eating enough, I would tell him that I just had a small stomach--which was true, but only because I was making it that way. Before our wedding, I lost weight and my wedding dress was actually too big for me. On our honeymoon, I only ate the crusts off of my french toast at breakfast one morning. Sure, I ate, but I wasn't eating like I should have been. I wasn't eating like someone who had overcome three eating disorders should be. I would eat large meals now and again without being phased, lying to myself and saying; "See! You're okay! You just ate something you would have never eaten during your disorders!", but I was wrong. Sure, I wasn't anorexic or a binge eater, but I wasn't "okay". Some days it feels like I'll never be. This wasn't anywhere close to how I was when I was anorexic, but I easily could have continued down that path. I liked that the pants I had bought nine months ago were too big on me. I liked that shirts felt loose on my shoulders. I liked that I could put my hands on my waist and not strain to have my fingers touch my bellybutton.

From day one, Justin told me that he loved me at any weight, but part of me was afraid to believe him. Part of me was afraid to wait and see what would happen if I gained weight. I guess I was mostly afraid of myself. Before we got married, my sister came up to me and asked if I was doing okay. I said I was because compared to my past, I was doing better. I mean, I was eating regularly and not restricting myself to celery and crushed ice like I had before...but the calorie counter in my head was dusted off and ready to go. Food started to become a number, not a source of nutrition.

To be honest, I've never forgotten the calorie amounts that I forced myself to memorize back in high school.

Initially, I was baffled that I kept losing weight, but I'm starting to realize just how complicit I actually was. When I was trying on wedding dresses, I happily credited most of the samples fitting me to my recent weight loss--I was relieved.I remember being proud of myself for not obsessing over how dresses looked on me, but I think I was actually just proud to be thin. I don't think I necessarily wanted to lose weight though, I think it was a matter of me liking the fact that I was finally making visible progress down from my binge eating weight and being okay with going a little further--losing a little bit more.

But that's how disorders get you.

I just re-discovered this picture while I was looking through our wedding photos :)

I love being married to my best friend!

Since we've gotten married, my fear of gaining weight has come back in full swing. Sometimes, I'll look at my profile in the mirror and push my fat towards my ribs to see what I would look like with a flatter, anorexic, stomach again. I mention in passing to Justin once or twice a week that I've gained weight and pretend like it isn't a big deal. But it is. I've done it so much that last night, I started to say something while I was standing in front of the mirror and Justin instantly thought that I was going to ask him if I was had gained weight. A couple of times, I've fantasized about kneeling next to the toilet and throwing up. I've fantasized about the hunger that comes from intentionally starving yourself. I've fantasized about a nightmare.

 I still consider myself recovered, but am I as okay as I thought I was a year ago? No.

I love my body and since I've noticed these behaviors coming back, I've tried to be mindful of them. I watch them, I counter them, but sometimes, like today, I fall short. Back when I was an eating disorder mentor on campus, my catchphrase was: "Recovery is real" and I still believe that it is. However, I'm starting to realize more and more lately that recovery isn't necessarily instant or long-lasting freedom from a disorder. Relapse is an incredibly common reality for anyone who has recovered from an eating disorder (check out this awesome video by Blythe Baird on relapse--it actually was one of the biggest motivators for me writing this post finally), it isn't anything to be ashamed of and it's okay to struggle. What isn't okay is deciding not to struggle against things that are hard or allowing shame to diminish the magnitude of our past accomplishments. Just because I'm stumbling now, doesn't mean I shouldn't stand tall for overcoming three disorders in the past or that I'm a failure. While we're talking about relapse, I think it's also important to note that relapse comes in all shapes and sizes. Spitting out a few cookies or counting how many calories are in a bowl of pasta do not mean that I've fallen back into an eating disorder--disordered eating, yes, but a disorder, no. I don't want anyone to mistake that last sentence as me brushing off the severity of my actions because I'm not. Things aren't as great as I'd like them to be, but I think it's important to recognize that things also aren't as bad as they could be. Yes, I acknowledge calories more than I'd like to, I'm more afraid of the implications of eating than I should be, and I'm afraid of what'll happen to my self-esteem if I gain a significant amount of weight in the near future, but have I become anorexic, bulimic, or a binge eater again? No.

And I don't plan on letting that happen ever again.

One of my main reasons for writing this post is to let others who have recovered from their disorders, but still struggle, still fight, still get exhausted by their own thoughts, that they aren't alone. That they aren't a failure. That they shouldn't be too hard on themselves because recovery isn't easy.

We're in this together.
And I think we'll be okay.

Interviewed

Justin (my insanely talented husband) filmed me and my eating disorder story for his final project in his film production class this semester. For those of you who have followed me for a while, most of what I talk about is probably old news, but in the video I go over my history with eating disorders and my road to recovery.

Check it out below!

Thankful for Thanksgiving

Back when I was seeing an eating disorder specialist (Michael Spigarelli), he would always make me book an appointment the week before Thanksgiving so we could create a battle plan for handling the holiday and the food that goes with it. Ever since I've had this blog, I've tried to do the same thing by posting about a week before Thanksgiving as a way to prepare myself and hopefully prepare others to embrace the holiday rather than dread it.

In the hopes of publishing this post before anyone heads off to their respective Thanksgiving dinners, I've decided that it would probably be best (and quickest) if I made "listicle"this year.

Ready? Here we go:

1. Dr. Spigarelli used to always tell me that "You could eat a full Thanksgiving dinner--including dessert, everyday for a week, maybe even two weeks, and you wouldn't significantly gain weight." 
2. It is always better to eat, than not to eat. If you don't feel comfortable eating the entire dinner and all its sides, start with what you feel comfortable with--just make sure you eat something.
3. If you're going through a disorder right now, brace yourself. Your family probably won't understand the emotions you're feeling--that's normal and that's okay. If you have a family member who is going through a disorder right now, watch them, but don't hover. If they seem like they're feeling down, distract them. Ask them about their day. Don't make comments about the food, dieting, or anything like that. If you notice they're struggling more than normal, pull them aside in a non-public area and sincerely ask them if they're doing okay and if there's anything you can do to make things easier for them. Be available. 
1. If you don't know if you have someone in your family who is experiencing a disorder, avoid talking about calories, dieting, and other negative comments regarding weight and food. Your words have an impact even if you're just saying something in passing--they can shape how someone else sees themselves and their food. 
4. Food is not the enemy. We need it to survive and it does our bodies good. Turkey gives your body protein and folic acid. Mashed potatoes give your body vitamin-C. String bean casserole gives your body beta-carotene and vitamin-B. Sweet potatoes gives you vitamin-A. And even pumpkin pie gives you potassium. Food is more than calories and fat. It is life. 
5. It's okay to struggle--don't give up on yourself. 
6. Try to forget calorie counting. Spend more time enjoying the holiday atmosphere--it only comes once a year. 
7. If you over-eat, don't obsess over it. It happened, but it isn't going to define you or your waist, and it shouldn't define your day. 

There is so much more that I could say, but I think these seven points summarize my thoughts on Thanksgiving pretty well. If you're going through a disorder right now, I know what you're going through. Three years ago, as I was starting to come into recovery, I was having a hard time imagining a future where I could just sit at the Thanksgiving dinner table and not have to worry about sneaking away to the bathroom to throw up my food or to be able to just eat a Thanksgiving dinner without thinking about it. It is possible though--here I am today, excited and feeling positive about dinner tonight. If you need someone to lean on today, lean on me. Recovery wasn't easy, but it was worth it. Additionally, recovery isn't easy, but it is possible. 

Thanksgiving is a hard holiday for individuals who are going through disorders and women in general--so remember that you're not alone in your struggles. Stay strong and be brave enough to be kind to yourself today. You can do it! I believe in you. 

Happy Thanksgiving! 

P.S. I totally made my first apple pie from scratch
 last night--it totally looks food blog worthy! I'm so excited
to see if it tastes as good as it looks!

Loss

A couple months ago I went to go see my endocrinologist and found out that I've lost a significant amount of weight in the five months prior to my visit. Normally, this wouldn't be a problem for me or even something that I would have wanted to know, but it became a problem when she told me the exact amount that I weigh. My old endocrinologist knew not to talk numbers with me because I first met her during my disorder and right after Dr. Spigarelli told me that I wasn't allowed to weigh myself. However, my new doctor wasn't aware of this. Needless to say, I was elated to hear about my new weight, but that elation has quickly started to morph into an obsession.

I'm not upset that she told me (I mean, It's not like I can or should go through life averting my eyes when I'm weighed on a scale or expecting doctors to hide that information from me every time I go to a hospital) but I am upset by my own reaction to her telling me this.

When I was at my heaviest, I used to always tell myself that if I could just get to the weight that I'm at now, I would be happy. I thought that by reaching this weight, I would finally be able to be satisfied with my body and all of my body image issues would magically go away.

However, I'm starting to realize that this isn't necessarily true.

For as proud as I was of losing the weight that I once had, I'm now terrified of gaining weight back. I criticize my appearance and compare myself to others more so than I have in a long time, my expectations of myself are slowly starting to become more and more unrealistic, and worst of all, I've even started to monitor what I eat and let calorie counting slip back into my thoughts.

Although I'm aware of what's going on within myself, I've been way more passive about addressing these issues within myself than I should be. So, I've decided it's time to have an introspective heart-to-heart with myself to try to nip these disorder behaviors before they become active participants in my life again.

Ready? Let's do this:

• Alyson, what is there to be afraid of? Going back to the previous weight that you were when you lost weight the first time after recovery? You liked yourself and your body then just as much as you do now. Weight doesn't determine worth or beauty, remember? I thought we've moved on past this.
• These thoughts that you're having go against everything that you've stood for and all the lessons you've learned during the three years you spent recovering. You're becoming a hypocrite.
• If you keep this up, you could easily fall back into your disorders or allow yourself to relearn an unhealthy relationship with food. Food isn't the enemy and your body isn't a construction zone.
• Good gravy, girlfriend. Your brain was made for bigger and better things than preoccupying itself with calories and constantly critiquing your physical appearance.
• Being skinny isn't an accomplishment and wearing a smaller clothing size isn't something to be proud of.  
• You are more than your body and you are good enough. 
• Also, at any weight or state, your body is nothing to be ashamed of.
• Don't be too hard on yourself for slipping up, recovery is a life-long effort. 
• Body image isn't reliant how you look or what you weigh, body image is reliant on how you feel about yourself.
• Losing weight doesn't guarantee happiness--you know this firsthand. Last time you obsessed over losing weight, you were constantly miserable, hungry, and depressed. 

With that taken care of, I want to note that as I started to recover, I slowly realized that happiness came from things other than my weight or what I ate. Additionally, the motivation behind my recovery changed from wanting to lose weight to wanting to be recovered and healthy. Instead of trying to change my appearance, I decided to change how I saw myself and coincidentally, I also became happy with myself as well.

Lately though, I've seemed to forget all of this.

So here's a reminder to myself that:

• I'm still proud of who I've become. 
• I still love my stretch marks because they remind me of where I've been.
• I'm still proud of how strong my body is and all that it can do at any weight. 
• I still believe that size is just a descriptor, not a determinate of worth. 
• I still think that I am beautiful no matter how I look or how the world says I should be. 
• I still know that I am not my disorders. 
• I still love myself because I am worth loving. 

I don't think it's a bad thing to lose weight or to be happy that you lost weight, but from my own personal experience over these last few months, I've come to realize that there's a fine line between being happy for yourself and obsessing over maintaining your happiness due to conditions you've applied to it.

Yes, I'm happy that I lost weight.
But I won't let my weight determine my happiness.

So, if I gain the weight back, who cares?
If I eat more than the recommended amount of calories for a meal, what's the big deal?

I deserve to be happy and proud of myself regardless of the number on a scale, the size of a dress,
the food I've eaten or the reflection in the mirror.

I am more than my body and I am more than my weight.

I am Alyson.
And I will be happy with myself.

Photo Cred: My Super Talented Boyfriend, Justin

Mission Statment

I was cleaning out my room last week and came across a folder that I used in my 10th grade health class.

As I opened the folder, two packets and a mission statement fell out in front me. The first packet was blue and on the front it said, "Unit 1". Curious, I turned its pages to see what I had written inside. Topics ranged from self-esteem to goal-setting and to the avoidance of abusive relationships. In the assignment sections, my teacher asked us to take the time to fill out personal reflections for each category we covered in class. Overall, my answers were positive and hopeful. I mentioned how I wanted to see the world and how grateful I was for my friends and family. On a personal health assessment page, I listed the worst thing about my physical health being that I probably went to bed later than I should have. I also wrote that I was lucky to not have a mental illness (although later in high school I experienced depression and anxiety).

The second packet was yellow and on its cover were the words, "Unit 2: Personal Fitness". On the first page in the packet were the measurements I needed for my target heart rate and below that, were my BMI measurements which were followed by a "handy" calculation for a calorie deficit that we could use if we wanted to try to lose one pound a week (which my teacher encouraged all of us to do on a regular basis, since he believed most people could: "stand to lose some weight").

You're probably wondering why I'm rambling off about two packets that I filled out in high school.

Well, it was during this 10th grade health class that anorexia first manifested itself in my life. It was where I first found the resources that I had been looking for to help me lose weight. It was where I first found the tools I needed to count calories and to measure food. It was where I first found the motivation to act on the thoughts that had been festering inside of me for years.

 It was the perfect storm.

From the first page of that packet on, the margins of each page were filled with notes on how I could most effectively lose weight by dieting and exercise. There were even instances where I wrote how much I didn't like my body or myself in the margins too. Except for a few examples, they weren't blatant comments of self-deprecation. Instead, they were sly insults hidden under false overtones of positivity concerning the "better" version of myself that I was in the process of making. One of the worst pages that featured this, was titled, "Managing Your Weight'. Again, my teacher chose to go in-depth about how to lose weight through calorie deficits while also addressing how many calories were in a pound of fat, how many calories were in a hamburger, how to calculate how many calories you could burn depending on your weight, and (ironically) what eating disorders were.

Comparing this second packet to the first one broke my heart. I could see the girl from the first packet disappearing as I turned the pages of the second. My goals and my priorities switched from focusing on going to bed earlier or being kinder to my friends, to losing weight and counting calories. I saw the progression of a relatively carefree girl becoming an obsessive, depressed mess in a few short months. I was able to relive the hateful thoughts and lies that I once fed myself all for the sake of becoming "healthier".

I saw the loss of my soul.

I want to point out that I don't necessarily think it was my teacher's fault for me becoming anorexic--because it wasn't. I was the one who chose to follow what he advised us to do. However, his attitudes and the way that he planned his curriculum were an eating-disorder and self-hate breeding ground. And this isn't just limited to him or to his class. There was a teacher at my high school who was known for using calipers to pull at and measure the fat percentage on her students bodies. Students would weight themselves in gym class too. Why? All for the sake of fitness and health of course.

Instead of achieving that though, what they did instead was unintentionally shame student's bodies who didn't meet designated fitness standards. Although it's never shameful to have fat on your body, eat a hamburger, not exercise five days a week, or not have your BMI within a certain range, students were taught the opposite in my high school's health and fitness classes.  By cultivating these thought processes, the emotional and mental health of students were sacrificed for the sake ridiculous measurements that aren't even accurate indicators of health for most body types.

I understand that maybe what happened to me in my health class was an isolated experience--I mean, it's not like everyone in that class developed an eating disorder or eating disorder habits from what was taught. My concern though, is that the way health is taught fuels eating disorder mentalities, thin-culture, and false perceptions of health. Even if I hadn't developed a disorder, I can guarantee that I would have taken what I learned in this class and stored it in my mind as truth. I probably would have referred back to it at times and even worse, I would have taught these unhealthy concepts through my actions or words to others.

In the personal mission statement that I mentioned earlier, I wrote that I wanted to "always be in control of my body". Although that was just one line in a one page paper, it says more about who I was at that time in my life than anything else I had written for that assignment. When I said that I wanted control, I meant that I wanted to have absolute control over my weight, appearance, and everything that entered or left my body.

Looking back on that goal now, I think I still want to achieve it. I still want to always be in control of my body, but not in the same way that I used to.

I want to always be in control of how I feel about my body and not let any measurement or opinion from someone else change how I see myself. I want to always be in control of what I feed my body and not let calories dictate my diet. I want to always be in control of appreciating how strong and resilient my body is regardless of how many pounds I can lift or miles I can run.

As soon as I finish this post, I think I'm going to go throw these packets away because it doesn't really do anyone any good to dwell in the past. I'm glad that I found them though. Reading through their pages has helped me remember where I've come from, along with helping me realize the progress that I've made to become who I am now.

I'm much healthier now at my current weight and not counting calories than I ever was back then when I was trying to diet because health goes beyond things that can be seen and measured physically.

And maybe it's time that we start teaching health classes about that instead.

Finding the Sunshine

This week, Rachel from Finding the Sunshine (a blog about depression and overcoming mental illness) and I decided to do a collaboration! She asked me to write a post for her blog about how I've "found the sunshine" despite my challenges with eating disorders, and how other people can do the same.

Here's a preview of what I had to say, but make sure to check out Rachel's blog to see the full post tomorrow!

I was 14 years old when I first began my journey with eating disorders.

Although I had struggled with body dysmorphia for as long as I could remember, I didn't do anything to drastically change my body until the beginning of tenth grade. I decided to follow the "advice" of my health teacher and start a "calorie deficit" diet to lose weight (which I now realize didn't need to be lost in the first place).

Around when I first started to "diet".

The diet quickly turned into more than a weight loss plan, it was a disorder...an obsession. I was constantly preoccupied with counting calories and controlling my food intake--I was convinced that I was being "healthy". Food was always in the forefront of my thoughts and I was always hungry; I would go to bed starving just so I could eat breakfast in the morning. However, during this time I wasn't willing to accept that what I was doing was wrong. I was happily miserable.

At my lowest--not healthiest, weight. 

Towards the beginning of eleventh grade, I was bullied. I became depressed and turned to the one thing that I had been denying myself in order to find comfort: food. This quickly turned into a different disorder known as binge eating disorder. I would go into my family's kitchen and gorge on food for hours on end until my stomach couldn't take it anymore. I hated myself and it was also during this time that I became suicidal. 

Dr. Michael Spigarelli was the first person to tell me that an eating disorder--of any kind, is a (curable) mental disease; my disorders were not me or my fault. Additionally, he made sure to emphasize that depression and anxiety are often linked to disordered behaviors as well and also can act as catalysts for disorders to begin. Thanks to him, my therapist, and antidepressants, I was able to overcome my disease along with the depression that resulted. 

In all honesty, this was an incredibly dark time in my life; I had no hope for myself or for my future. There were times when I couldn't and didn't want to find the sunshine in anything. I accepted and feared that my life would always be a constant battle against myself; it felt as if I was slowly burying myself in a grave that I wouldn't be able to climb out of.

Dear Nicole Arbour,

I'm sure most of you have either heard of or seen the video that YouTube "comedian", Nicole Arbour, posted this week.

If you haven't, here it is (*trigger warning*):

When she was called out and temporarily banned on YouTube for this video, she responded on Twitter by saying:

“Wow, I'm the first comedian in the history of @YouTube to be #censored There are graphic videos about murder and torture, but satire is."

Yeah.
Wow.

I don't know about anyone else, but I was only able to get through the first three minutes of this video before turning it off.

Before I get any further into this post, I want to establish that this video is not satire. If you're making someone or an aspect of someone that they can't necessarily change the brunt of a joke, it isn't humor. If you're laughing at someone else's expense--it's bullying (intentional or not).

No one has the right to criticize, laugh at, or make generalizations about another person's body.
We're all fighting battles that no one but ourselves can see.

Additionally, words and actions--even those which are intended to be "satirical", always have consequences beyond their original intentions.

When I was in high school, I played on a competition soccer team before and during my eating disorders. While I was experiencing my binge eating disorder (and while at my highest weight), I can remember struggling to get my jersey and soccer shorts on my body--since I had bought them when I was anorexic, for games and practices. Because my thighs touched (I also want to clarify that having thighs that touch is not a bad thing), my shorts which were already too small would get stuck between my legs as I walked or ran. Not only was it uncomfortable, it was embarrassing.

It was a constant reminder of my weight.

One day at practice, one of my teammates noticed my shorts getting caught between my thighs as we walked off the field for a water break.

With other teammates around her, she stopped me, pointed my shorts and said:

"Hey Alyson, is your crotch hungry? Because it's eating your shorts!"

As everyone around her laughed, I fought back tears and tried to laugh along.

Although she thought what she said was funny, I went home and cried afterwards.

Then I binged,
purged,

And hated myself even more than I already did.

I'm sure that she didn't realize how little control I had over my body size at that time or even the extent to which her words hurt me.

She didn't know how humiliated I was about the fit of my uniform on my now bigger body.
She didn't know that I would gorge myself multiple times a day until my stomach couldn't take it anymore, in order to forget how much I loathed how I looked.
She didn't know that I was on the brink of an emotional breakdown.

But, she did know that I was fat.

Although I haven't experienced fat-shaming to the extent that I know others have, I know that fat-shaming is a real thing. I've also noticed that those who tend to say it doesn't exist are usually the same people that have never been a victim of it.

They haven't gone home crying after having their weight made fun of at school.
They haven't had to worry about exercising or eating in public.
They haven't been labeled as a fat person, rather than just a person.

Fat-shaming is a prevalent aspect of our culture.
And contrary to what Nicole Arbour thinks, there is no such thing as "good" fat-shaming.

Fat-shaming doesn't "help" anyone; it usually makes things worse for those dealing with weight issues by intensifying "bad habits" and shattering already fragile self-esteem.

Or, it can cause people to lose weight through desperate and unhealthy means (eating disorders) because they've been told to hate their bodies.

It's also important to note that societal perceptions of health aren't always healthy either.

Why are we so quick to condemn those who are fat and praise those who are skinny, when being skinny can be just as harmful and deadly (if not more so--trust me, I know) as being fat?

Being overweight isn't healthy, but that doesn't mean that it isn't okay to be overweight.
You are not less of a person if you have fat on your body.
And you are not joke or something to be satirized.

We are all entitled to respect and happiness regardless of our weight; fat does not eliminate a person's humanity--even if you're included in the "35% of Americans that are OBESE".

Yes, we all are given one body; but your body doesn't have to be perfect in order for you to appreciate it.

Body positivity isn't about loving being fat or loving having fat, it's loving who you are regardless of fat, disabilities, or whatever traditional beauty standards state.

It's about not taking your body for granted by letting the opinions of those around dictate your perception of yourself and your self-worth.


There are so many more things I could say in response to this video, but I probably should end this post here before I say something I regret.


I don't know if there's a solution to end fat-shaming, but I think that having a greater degree of sensitivity and acceptance towards others is a good place to start.


And as for Nicole Arbour and those who agree with her,

Ignore them.
They're a joke.

Stress

Lately, I've been stressed out.
Okay, that was definitely an understatement.

Lately, I've been REALLY stressed out.

Between Type 1 Diabetes, work, career decisions, and every day life, stress has become almost second nature to me.

Which is more terrifying than it sounds.

In the context of my life, stress has a direct tie to disordered eating and depression.

When I was in high school, I was severely stressed out (and consequently depressed) to the point where I contemplated suicide on a daily basis.

Along with that, I ate food incessantly to forget about the world around me.
It was a coping mechanism which later became my second eating disorder and eventually resulted in my third.

I binged on food and too often, I eventually found my head shoved inside of a toilet in the hopes of helping my body forget the pain I had just put it through.

For the longest time, I was afraid that this is what the rest of my life would consist of.
Bingeing, purging, hating myself.

Wanting to die.

I couldn't imagine a life outside of my eating disorders--I couldn't see an end to my pain.

(As I'm typing this out, I realize that the words on this computer screen will never adequately explain or express how dark of a time that was for me.  I guess we never fully comprehend anyone's sadness like we do our own. Words can only describe the big picture of life-- they're shallow. Life is too deep and our experiences are too intricate to be defined by letters on a page.

But, hey. We can still try.)

Throughout all of the recent stress, I've found myself reverting back to small binges and urges to run to the bathroom and throw up... even on an empty stomach.

When I've looked in the mirror recently, I've started to see the darkness of four years ago watching and waiting from behind my eyes for the perfect moment to come forward again.

I think that's the terrifying thing about allowing yourself to step into the world of eating disorders, even if it's just for a moment, it's nearly impossible to leave.

I don't mean for this to sound disheartening or dismal. You can be cured from an eating disorder, I've done it--but it wasn't easy. When I get stressed out, I don't binge like I used to and I don't allow myself to go any further than kneeling next to a toilet--but the fear of having an instant of weakness and losing ground I've painfully gained is tortuous.

I once read that we fear most the things which we've already experienced.
And I know that to be true.

I've been through Hell, and I don't want to go back.

In all honesty, I have no idea where I'm going with this blog post or why I decided to take such a intense spin on my experiences.

I guess I'm worried about more than just myself.
I know what it's like to walk a path that you never wanted or intended to take.
And I don't recommend it to anyone.

If I could talk to myself in high school, I would try my hardest to stop her from starting her first "diet".
I would try to convince her to find help sooner.
I would try to tell her that she is beautiful at any weight.
I would try to persuade her that her stress would just be for a moment.
I would try to make her understand that not eating, eating too much or throwing up what you eat doesn't solve anything; it makes everything worse.

It makes every harder.

It makes everything scary.

Maybe this post is my open letter to any woman or girl who is contemplating taking on an eating disorder or already wading through one.

To all of you that this applies to:
Stop while you're ahead.

If you feel like you're in control of your disorder, you're not.
If you think bingeing while you eat, restricting what you eat, and throwing up what you eat aren't eating disorders, they are.
If you believe that your habits won't have any lasting effects, they will.

However:

If you feel like you're alone, you're not.
If you think you're a failure, you're not.
And if you believe that you can escape, you will.

Whenever I find myself inching back into my old habits and mentalities, I have to remind myself that I am better than this--stronger than this.

I am not weak because I have a weakness, I am strong because I am constantly fighting my weakness.

Additionally, having an eating disorder doesn't mean that you're weak, but eating disorders do require strength in order to be overcome.

So please, be strong sooner rather than later.
Be strong now, so you don't have to be strong later when you can barely find the strength to lift your head out of a toilet bowl.

It can be done, but it's much harder that way.

And much more stressful.

I Am Beautiful.

A couple of weeks ago I decided to look for a shirt that had a body-positive quote on it to wear around campus and to promote this blog. However, despite my best efforts to find one, there were literally none to be found on any website or search engine online. Slightly bitter, I decided to take matters into my own hands and designed a shirt myself. I wanted something that not only looked cool, but that also caused me to feel good about myself--I wanted it to say what I believed in the simplest and loudest way possible.

Anyways, after about a week of going through what felt like hundreds of rough drafts on Photoshop (and harassing my friends and family members for their input), I was able to decide on my final design:

 

"I am beautiful."

Is it vain? No.
Is it empowering? Definitely.

Considering the journey that I've taken over the last five years, wearing this shirt in public is a mile-marker for me. When I was going through my eating disorders, I would have never identified myself as being beautiful; I hated every pound of my body, every glance in the mirror, every aspect of my being. I thought being beautiful only applied to the girls who were, well, beautiful. It seemed like a title earned only by the select few who happened to look the part (skinny, curvy, athletic, stylish, etc).

As I've gotten older, overcome my eating disorders, and moved on from the social pressures of high school, I realize that being beautiful and being attractive are two totally different things. Beauty isn't something that you can find by going to the gym, dieting, or throwing up in a toilet bowl (despite what society may tell us). Those habits usually stem from self-loathing and the act of securing your self-esteem by constantly manipulating your appearance to favor the ever-changing preferences of the world. Believing that you're beautiful occurs when your overlook your appearance and allow your self-esteem to be anchored by your own opinion of yourself.

Being beautiful isn't determined by how we look, being beautiful is a part of who we are; it's intrinsic to every individual.


I've always thought that it's funny how we're so quick to find beautiful things in other people, but so slow and stubborn when it comes to finding beauty in ourselves. Maybe it's because we live in a world where we're constantly told how inadequate we are and that we can never be beautiful on our own; there's always a new product, a new diet, or a new workout DVD that can make us "better".

As a result, we tend to apologize for our bodies, rather than applaud them.

Society would like to have us think that a "normal" or "ideal" woman is thin, non-handicapped, young, attractive, and fit. But let's be honest, out of the millions of women who live in this world, how many would actually meet these requirements?

If beauty is really in the eye of the beholder, shouldn't we work harder to see the value within ourselves rather than placing our value in the hands of others?

By proudly acknowledging that we are beautiful, we not only challenge the ridiculous standards of the world, we overcome them. We become liberated and powerful; a force to be reckoned with. A source for change.

I've found that as I've come to accept myself as beautiful, I've been able to love my body despite how I may look or what state I may be in. I've stopped comparing myself to those around me and stopped seeing myself as a contestant in a competition or an object under scrutiny. I judge less, and as a result, I see more.

Like dominoes, my health, self-esteem, and body image have fallen into place thanks to the simple act of seeing myself as something of value. Now I know that trends and cultural standards always change, but my worth as an individual will always stay the same.

Associating yourself with beauty isn't vain or prideful, it's a sign of confidence and self-esteem.
It's loving and accepting yourself on your own terms, in your own ways.
It's a badge of courage.
It's a conscious decision and a never-ending uphill battle.

Although I still might not be consistent in associating positive thoughts towards my body, I finally appreciate it for all that it is (and isn't).

My body may not fit the current textbook definition of beauty, but I am beautiful.

Why?

Because I think so.
And that's all that matters.

(If you're interested in buying a shirt like mine, contact me [Instagram, Facebook, email, etc] or let me know in the comments below. If at least 20 people sign up for one, it will only cost about $15 per shirt instead of the $30 that mine cost. Once that happens, I can open a store on the blog and we can move on from there! Thanks!)

UPDATE: The shop for the shirts is now open! See the top navigation menu above for the link!

New Year

Happy New Year! I can't believe that it's already 2015! When my siblings and I were watching the countdown in Times Square, my brother made the comment that we're now the same distance away from 2030 as we are from 2000....which is a pretty crazy thought! We may have not gotten the hoverboards, self-lacing shoes, and expandable food promised in "Back to the Future II", but hey, I'll keep my fingers crossed for 2030.

The end of 2014 marked the beginning of my third year free from bingeing, strict dieting, and my habits associated with what was left of my eating disorders. I can eat food without feeling guilty, and I finally know how to properly feed myself--which feels amazing! I still find myself fighting off my own self-depreciating thoughts, low self-esteem, and negativity towards my body, but I'm proud of the ground I've gained. I've won this battle, and now I'm waiting for my enemy to retreat.

One thing I love about the new year is the period of obligatory self-reflection and goal-making that follows. Although we usually tend to forget or give up on these goals shortly after making them, I think there's a lot of value in having even a small desire to improve oneself.

My goal for this year? Make goals that are worth keeping.

Not:

"If I lose weight, or gain weight, I'll like myself more."
"If I can become this size, everything will be okay."
"If by changing my body, I can make someone else love me, I'll be able to love myself."
"I just need to lose five pounds, or I just need to be a size ____."

I've learned that these aren't goals,
They're poison.

Instead, I'm aiming to make 2015 the year that I:
-Loved myself unconditionally, with no strings attached.
-Always said yes to dessert.
-Told myself how cute I looked each time I walked past a mirror, rather than seeing my flaws.
-Became comfortable in my skin, no matter what size or condition it was in.
-Ignored what society said I should be, or how I should look.
-Became a person I am proud of.


This year, I'm planning on loving my body first, and moving on from there.

Starving

In high school, I picked up two eating disorders. The first was during the end of my sophomore year, and I basically limited my food and calorie consumption by doing a calorie deficit. After three months, I lost 40 lbs., and considered myself to be healthy. No matter how much weight I lost, I believed I could always stand to lose more, despite how small I had become. Looking back now, I realize I was borderline anorexic and pushing my body to be a size that it wasn't naturally built to be.

During the beginning of my Junior year, there was drama within my friend group and I turned to food as a way of coping with the stress and emotions that ensued. After months of doing this, my coping turned into bingeing, and as a result, I gained more weight than I had originally lost. Food become an addiction, and as time went on, the bingeing progressively worsened and my stomach had stretched to a point where I couldn't determine whether I was hungry or not. Essentially, I was bulimic, minus the purging...which I eventually acquired later on. My thoughts of self-loathing carried on from my days of anorexia and became an obsession during my battle against binge eating. 

All in all, I spent my entire high school career fighting myself and my eating disorders. 

Okay, so you're probably wondering where I'm going with this story.

...Yesterday I didn't eat. 

The night before I had fallen into old habits and turned to food as a medication for my emotions. I went to bed disgusted with myself, and decided that in order to make up for what I had done, I would skip all my meals the next day, or couple of days, in order to "balance" myself out. I had accepted the notion that by starving myself, I would become healthier, and happier. (I hope you can tell I just rolled my eyes at that statement--see this post-- Isn't it interesting that we think health and happiness can be derived from starving ourselves and strict dieting?)

I think that too often in our efforts to become physically healthy, we become emotionally and mentally unhealthy along the way. Through my experiences I've come to realize that eating disorders are composed of mental, and physical, aspects--you can have an eating disorder mentality, without physically acting upon those thoughts of self-hate and detriment. Although its been almost two years since my last binge, I know that time and distance don't end eating disorders; to end an eating disorder, you need to overcome yourself...which I'm still trying to do.

I have signs of being an eating disorder survivor spread across my body (especially my eyes due to burst blood vessels from purging), but because of this, I only have to look in the mirror to remind myself of where I've come from, the pain I went through, and the progress I've made. I've said before that our bodies tell our stories, and in my case, I'm a living monument to myself.

Although I'm not completely free of my past, my eating disorder mentality, or the consequences that came because of it, I'm still moving forward. I think we all have days where we either overeat or don't want to eat; however, the trick is learning how to eat and then moving on with life regardless of food amount, calories, or our personal weight.

In summary:
It's time to realize that food isn't our enemy, and eating isn't a sin. 

Sorry

Have you ever caught yourself apologizing for your size or appearance? I have. Multiple times. Usually to myself.

Last night as I was trying to fall asleep my thoughts drifted towards my body and how other people perceive how I look. As I rolled over in my bed, I whispered, "I'm sorry", in the hope of washing away these thoughts from my mind. For some reason I felt a wave of embarrassment, not only for me, but for anyone and everyone who has ever had to look at me. I was ashamed that I would never live up to society's expectations or beauty standards.

My thighs touch together.
I'll never be smaller than a size 8 (unless I starve myself...which I've done, and will never do again).
I have a chubby face with delicate features.
I have stretch marks along my hips.
My upper arms are flabby.
I have back fat.

And along with all of this, I would much rather have my hands in a bag of chips than have my feet in a pair of running shoes.

My question though, is why are all of these characteristics considered to be negative or derogatory to who I am as an individual or how attractive I may (or may not) be? How can the length of a measuring tape around my waist ever produce an accurate measurement of my character?

J.K. Rowling has been quoted as saying:

Fat is usually the first insult a girl throws at another girl when she wants to hurt her. I mean, is 'fat' really the worst thing a human being can be? Is 'fat' worse than 'vindictive', 'jealous', 'shallow', 'vain', 'boring' or 'cruel? 

I think it's ironic that as women, our worth is determined by how much we don't weigh, rather than how much we do. At times it seems like the less we are, the more we are.  Society looks at our size first, and our accomplishments second. In a sense, our appearances, not our actions, often speak louder than our words, thoughts, or beliefs.

What can we do to fix this?

One of the first steps to changing how we see ourselves, and how we see others, is to change our vocabulary. "Thin" and "fat" should never be synonymous with insults or the lesser. The amount of power that simple descriptions of anatomy are given, and the extent to which they're used as indicators of worth, is ridiculous. No one should ever feel inadequate, judged, or stereotyped due to their body size, whether it be large, or small, natural or unnatural. By applying negativity to physical features within humanity, we begin to see ourselves in a negative light due to our self-association with those words and traits. Media emphasis on certain types of bodies is equally as poisonous. It's been said that a "picture is worth a thousand words", and if that's true, one can only imagine the impact that the thousands of images of idealized bodies, that we see on nearly a daily basis, have on us as well. 

As I was skimming through some of the recent posts done by "Humans of New York", I came across this:

"I'm trying not to hate my body. I love my hair and my hands, but everything else I wouldn't mind switching out."

I've come to believe that as women, we're taught by various sources that we're only worth our parts, rather than the sum of our parts. Like animals placed before a butcher, only the best cuts of meat are considered desirable-- with our objectivity, not subjectivity, placed on the chopping block. Too often we try to "salvage" and buoy our self esteem by finding small aspects of our appearance that are socially acceptable, rather than accepting ourselves as a whole, human being. We tend to feel that if every aspect of our body isn't deemed good by society's standards, we're no good at all; making it hard to accept ourselves as naturally imperfect due to impossible ideals of perfection placed upon our shoulders by ourselves, our peers, and our culture.

Well, I'm saying, "enough" to all of this.

It might sound crazy, but today as I was walking to class, I realized that I like my thighs.

I like that they're bigger.
I like that they don't have a gap between them.
I like that they're soft.
I like the way that skirts drape over them.

But most of all, I like that they're mine.
And the same goes for the rest of my body too.

So, no more apologizing.
No more self-loathing.
No more guilt.
No more comparing.
No more shame when I see my reflection.
No more seeing my body as a rough draft or a construction-zone.
No more relying on the connotations of adjectives or the glances of other people.

Our bodies tell our stories, and my life is nothing to be ashamed of.

I've overcome two eating disorders, a terminal illness, and the everyday trials that come from living. Battles have been won, and obstacles overcome... in this body, at various sizes. Yes, I have fat on my arms, stomach and thighs, but I'm learning to see those areas as a source of pride, rather than disgrace. They're a reminder of who I am, and what I'm capable of doing.

So, today, I choose to love myself as is.
Not for how I was, or will be.
But for how I am right now.

'Imperfect'.



And that's okay. 

Pride

Whenever I make a comment about how much I've eaten, my roommate always says, "I'm proud of you!"

Given my past of dieting, and starving myself in order to be socially presentable, this is an incredible statement...on both ends. 

It's been three years and here I am: eating, healthy, with friends that care about me, and the ability to care for myself. 

So, I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'm proud of myself too. 

Numbers

When I was walking home from class a few days ago, I passed a group of girls about to go for a run. Their conversation consisted of all of them stating the amount of pounds they needed to lose, and how excited they were to achieve the individual goals they set for themselves. Yesterday my roommate and I decided to make cinnamon rolls to have for breakfast this morning. We finished around midnight, and then invited our other roommates to have some too. As I walked back to my bedroom, I heard them mention the concern they had for eating the cinnamon rolls on top of the amount of calories they had already eaten earlier that day. Both experiences, caused me to think about the role numbers play in our lives.

For the longest time, my happiness was determined by my dress-size, the calories I ate, and the amount I weighed. I realized too late that dwelling on those things was like living in a hamster ball. They trap you in a transparent case that allows you to see and move around life, but not live it (also, it gets smelly after a while...).

One of the most important things I have ever been told is that the only number that matters is your IQ. Now that I look back, I wonder how many of my problems, and the problems of other girls, could have been solved by being told this sooner our lives. From my own experience, I feel that body image and self-worth are learned behaviors. As little girls, we're force-fed the idea that we have to be "pretty", with little emphasis on being smart. We're complimented on the bows in our hair, rather than our problem-solving capabilities, or intelligence. I'm not saying that it is a completely negative thing to value one's appearance, but I feel like if, as a society, we built a foundation for girls based on their internal qualities, rather than their external appearances, a lot of self-perception issues would be solved. Ironically though, in doing this we only drive ourselves back to determining our worth by a different set of numbers.

Going back to dresses sizes and such, I can't help but think about an experience I had a few weekends ago while at the General Women's Meeting for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. I've mentioned before how I struggle with comparing my body to those of my sisters and cousins; well, those issues resurfaced while I was with all of them at conference. Before I left to meet up with them, I thought I looked adorable in the outfit that I had chosen out, but as soon as I was in their company, my self-esteem dropped, and I was fighting tears for the entire night. I took a picture with my mom and sisters, but when I looked at it afterwards, I felt like a giant both in my height, and weight. At one point in the night, in tears and in desperate need, I sent a text to a friend that said:

"I can't do this. I'm surrounded by petite size 2's at a restaurant. My family's genetics are messed up. I don't even know where I came from."

 It seems like no matter how far I move away from my eating disorder, the traits that eventually led me down that path never quite left my system. I honestly don't think they ever will, like acid, they've eaten away at me creating a void within my conscience that constantly demands to be filled. We all have our own battles to fight, and my biggest one will be against myself.

During the General Women's Meeting, I wrote over, and over again in my sketchbook that "my size doesn't determine my worth" in hopes of convincing myself that those words were true. I struggled throughout the rest of the meeting up until Dieter F. Uchtdorf began to speak. One paragraph of his talk stood out to me more than anything else that night, he said:

"Do you suppose it matters to our Heavenly Father whether your makeup, clothes, hair, and nails are perfect? Do you think your value to Him changes based on how many followers you have on Instagram or Pinterest? Do you think He wants you to worry or get depressed if some un-friend or un-follow you on Facebook or Twitter? Do you think outward attractiveness, your dress size, or popularity make the slightest difference in your worth to the One who created the universe?"

In an instant, I knew he was right. I was created by a perfect being, and therefore by that fact alone, I too was perfect.

Have you ever realized that out of life's millions of possibilities, you exist here in this time, and this moment? Have you ever realized that out of the 7.125 million people alive today, and the 108 billion that have ever lived upon this earth, you were born as you are now? Have you ever realized that God decided to create you, and thought of you as something worth creating? Whether you believe in God, or not, you are an undeniable miracle, a statistical anomaly. You have a body, and because of it (regardless of appearance or size) you have experienced life in all of it's tragic beauty. Your personality, experiences, and "flaws" set you apart as an individual; no one has been, or ever will be you. Your scars mark that you've lived your life: you're a survivor. Because of all of this, the way you look doesn't prevent you from being important, and it definitely doesn't take away the privilege of being able to live your life happily, as you choose.

I guess what I'm trying to say, is that we need to put the world and ourselves, in the infinite perspective of the universe before comparing our current state to a few, meager numbers (or individuals) placed before us. It may be hard to do since we're always our harshest critics, but:

"I promise that as you do so, you will discover your best self—your real self."

Sample

A few weeks ago, I was invited to write a sample blog post in order to be considered for an opportunity to write on a volunteer basis for the LDS blog, Sugardoodle.

With this in mind, I thought that I could share with all of you what I submitted:


Eating disorders, like a lot of things in life, aren't exactly predictable.

During my sophomore year of high school, I decided that I was done with feeling embarrassed by my body and the extra pounds it carried. As a result, I started a strict diet that only allowed me to eat about 1,700 calories a day. Within two months I had lost 40 pounds and reached, what I thought to be, my ideal body weight. For the first time in my life I felt comfortable in my own skin. No matter how much weight I lost, I wasn’t satisfied; I could always lose five more pounds. Eventually, I reached a point where the compliments I had been receiving from friends and family became tinged with worry; but no one could stop me. I realize now that I had become a victim of an eating disorder due to my own warped perceptions of beauty and self-worth. My “diet” controlled every action, thought, and emotion I had; it consumed me, and became my identity.

Pre-eating disorders.

 I still can't believe I thought this was fat.



 A few months later, I became depressed due some drama at school within my circle of friends. Almost immediately I turned to food as my medication of choice, and shortly thereafter, I developed what would become another eating disorder. The sadder I became, the more I ate. The weight that I had worked so hard to lose (plus a little extra), came back within a month’s time and the depression that followed resulted in even more eating. No matter what I tried, I couldn’t stop myself--food was my escape from reality.

For the longest time I felt that it was my fault that I couldn’t control my eating because I was weak and too miserable to change. Luckily, I met with a doctor who helped me realize that an eating disorder is a mental disease with physical implications. It isn’t just a matter of not eating or eating more; it’s an addiction, a state of being.  He once compared an eating disorder to a person with Diabetes (which I have) by explaining that just as you can’t tell a Diabetic to make insulin on their own, you can’t talk someone out of an eating disorder. It takes time, therapy, medication, meditation, and patience for change to occur.



Over the years, I’ve thought a lot about how and why I came to have an eating disorder in the first place. I've come to the conclusion that it didn’t come from a single source, but many. In both instances, I felt inadequate. I was angry that no matter what I did, I would never be good enough. I guess I believed what society told me: that my value lay in the number on a scale, the calories on a box, or the size on a clothing tag.  Even though it’s been two years since my last relapse, I know that my eating disorder is an intrinsic part of who I am, shaping my thoughts, opinions of myself and, at times, how I interact with others. However, through the support of my loved ones, the blessings of the Atonement, and the love of my Father in Heaven, I know that we're never really alone during the trials placed before us.

Fail System

Last Sunday, I was able to attend church with my family since I had the day off from my usual Aspen Grove responsibilities. While there, I was able to listen to a friend speak about her experiences overcoming military fitness and physical criteria tests. She stated that, "...(the tests) are a fail system...especially for women with real bodies." As I listened to her continue her story, I began to think about the times when I felt frustrated with my body due to the  societal "fail system" that we constantly subject ourselves to.

It has taken me years to realize that I'm not the problem, society is.
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Did you know that the U.S. weight loss market was worth $61 billion 2010 or that gym, health, and fitness clubs are currently worth $27 billion?

Apparently, making people feel inadequate is a lucrative industry.

Here are some statistics from NEDA:

1. 42% of 1st-3rd grade girls want to be thinner.

2. In elementary school fewer than 25% of girls diet regularly. Yet those who do know what dieting involves and can talk about calorie restriction and food choices for weight loss fairly effectively.

3. 81% of 10 year olds are afraid of being fat.

4. 46% of 9-11 year-olds are “sometimes” or “very often” on diets, and 82% of their families are “sometimes” or “very often” on diets.

5. Over one-half of teenage girls and nearly one-third of teenage boys use unhealthy weight control behaviors such as skipping meals, fasting, smoking cigarettes, vomiting, and taking laxatives.

6. 35-57% of adolescent girls engage in crash dieting, fasting, self-induced vomiting, diet pills, or laxatives. Overweight girls are more likely than normal weight girls to engage in such extreme dieting.

7. Even among clearly non-overweight girls, over 1/3 report dieting (Wertheim et al., 2009).

Girls who diet frequently are 12 times as likely to binge as girls who don’t diet.

8. The average American woman is 5’4” tall and weighs 165 pounds. The average Miss America winner is 5’7” and weighs 121 pounds.

9. The average BMI of Miss America winners has decreased from around 22 in the 1920s to 16.9 in the 2000s. The World Health Organization classifies a normal BMI as falling between 18.5 and 24.9.

10. 95% of all dieters will regain their lost weight in 1-5 years.



"Biggest Loser" contestant, Ali Vincent.
 “After I won ‘The Biggest Loser,’ I weighed 122 pounds for about 2.2 seconds,” she said.
“It’s been five years since I won and I’ve seen myself gain at least five pounds a year.”

11. 35% of “normal dieters” progress to pathological dieting. Of those, 20-25% progress to partial or full-syndrome eating disorders.

12. Of American, elementary school girls who read magazines, 69% say that the pictures influence their concept of the ideal body shape. 47% say the pictures make them want to lose weight.

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When I started writing this post two hours ago, I had no idea that I would end up going in this direction. Maybe I researched this information for selfish reasons. But then again, it's always good to be reminded of reality rather than the fantasy that is forced down our throats on a daily basis.  I've decided that society constantly seeks to make the 1% seem like the majority in order to take advantage of the remaining 99%.

I wonder what the first step would be to changing a thought process that is so engrained into the modern human psyche... How is it that we can prevent future generations from feeling the pain of our own? How can we beat the "fail system" that has permeated into almost every aspect of our daily lives?

Honestly, I have no idea.

I guess a good start would be to become the change that we want to see in the world through loving ourselves and accepting that our best will always be good enough.

We need to stop fearing numbers, and start living life.

Ultimately, we need to adjust how we see the world (and ourselves) in order to make it a better one.