Preface: I didn’t always have issues with my body. As a young child, I wasn’t too thin but naturally lithe and, thanks to a lot of tap and ballet lessons, also quite flexible. When I was eight years old I fell terribly ill around Thanksgiving and was admitted to the hospital. My symptoms were extreme thirst and hunger, frequent urination, lethargy, and unexplained weight loss. I was diagnosed with type 1 diabetes, and my body’s inability to naturally metabolize carbohydrates (basically, whatever I ate was almost immediately expelled from my body – a natural effort to lower my blood sugar and save my own life) resulted in a serious weight reduction before I was brought to the hospital. I was eight years old, and I weighed as much as a healthy five year old should, about 45 pounds.
I never gained much weight after that. I finished elementary school still looking very sickly, though I was completely adjusted and healthy now. My appetite was healthy, but I believe my young body’s adjustment to synthetic insulin injections and the energy of being a child prevented me from putting on any significant weight. I became very ill again when I was in seventh grade. When I began vomiting blood, I was taken to the hospital and diagnosed with an extreme case of diabetic ketoacidosis. My body was shutting down and I spent a week in the hospital recovering. Vomiting blood for days led to erosion of my esophagus, leaving me unable to eat without excruciating pain even after I left the hospital. I lost twenty pounds. When I went back to school, none of my clothes fit. My gym suit shorts were nearly falling off me during class. It took time, but eventually I fully recovered and put on some weight. I was still very thin. It was not until I reached puberty in eighth grade that I started to acquire any sort of womanly shape.
My sophomore year of high school, I was informed by a male friend that I had “let myself go”. I wondered what he meant. I had never thought anything negative about my body. In fact, I had never thought anything about it. I wasn’t terribly into makeup or fashion at that age, so my outward appearance really wasn’t of too much concern. I had a steady boyfriend, but we were young and it was not sexual and he had never really said anything about the way I looked, positive or negative. This was the first criticism that had ever been brought to my attention. I looked at myself in the mirror that evening and realized I had a bit more pudge in my hips and thighs than I had noticed before. I smiled at my reflection and my cheeks were suddenly chubby. I weighed myself. I was 148 pounds.
A year later, I found out I was pregnant. Obviously, this resulted in some weight gain but I didn’t have issues with it. I put on another thirty pounds during my pregnancy. Shortly after giving birth, I was back down to about 150 pounds.
Then I quit eating. It developed hard and fast. My schedule was a whirlwind between my infant daughter and beginning my first semester of college, and I noticed a bit of weight loss from the stress. I ran with it. I would drink a pot of coffee a day, nothing for breakfast, rarely anything for lunch. I would pick at dinner with my family. If I had a night class, I sometimes stopped at McDonald’s on my way and scarfed down a happy meal. I became obsessive and weighed myself every day. I quickly lost 30 pounds this way. My family became a little concerned, making comments like “I can see your bones” or “you need to eat something once in a while”, but no one said anything convincing enough to make me stop. I remember stepping on the scale in May 2011, and I was 117. I wanted to be 110 so badly, so I kept it up.
Then, I met this guy, we’ll call him Mark. We had a long, very serious relationship that eventually resulted in me moving in with him. Mark’s mother was a lovely and sweet woman, and I became pretty close with her. She was 100% Lithuanian, and she could cook like nobody’s business. I began to let go of my obsessive behavior towards eating there. I put on some weight, because I was happy and I was eating well. I was also treating myself to craft beers and red wine pretty much every night.
We broke up.
And that was awesome.
But I was miserable about a different guy and so I lost some weight again.
And then I gained it back and then a bit.
And then I would lose, and then I would gain, and lose and gain, but I’ve been hovering around 130-140 for the past three years.
For the past two weeks I’ve been diligently watching my calorie intake and making a serious effort to make it to the gym, or at least do some strength training at home, three times a week. At the risk of looking like a total loser, I’m just gonna track all of my progress here where no one can accuse me of being attention seeking or fishing for compliments. I’ve lost 4.5 pounds so far 🙂 the healthy way