I want to share a personal journey with you. The woman in the photo to the left? That’s me, five years ago, shortly after having my third child.
This snapshot was taken at a lake, just two months shy of my 35th birthday. At the time, I was the thinnest I’d been since I was a teenager, weighing in at 123 pounds. I remember going into J.Crew to buy a pair of khaki pants and confidently requesting a size 8. The friendly associate suggested I might be closer to a size 4, but I insisted on the 8s, which ended up falling down! Despite being my lightest since age 15, I looked at that photo and thought I appeared “fat.”
Fast forward to today, here’s the me you might recognize: a recent photo taken with my five kids, just months after my 40th birthday. I’m the one who unmistakably looks like the mother in the group.
Throughout the years, my weight has fluctuated dramatically. It’s been a roller coaster ride: ups and downs, much like the chaotic nature of motherhood itself. My journey has involved everything from pregnancy and breastfeeding to navigating nursing school, and all the forced (and unforced) exercise in between.
The body you see in the later photo was a result of losing a baby girl, experiencing marriage and divorce, moving multiple times, and surviving injuries as a labor and delivery nurse. To achieve that “ideal” look, I restricted myself to a mere 1,000 calories a day, ran 35 miles each week, and even lost my menstrual cycle. I meticulously counted every calorie and sacrificed sleep.
Are you puzzled?
You’re likely thinking one of a few things: “You looked amazing! What changed?” “How did you let yourself gain weight?” or perhaps, “Why do you seem less attractive in the second photo?” Some might even label me as “fat.” Others might say, “You look happy and healthy.”
The truth is, I am both happy and healthy.
I’m here to challenge the stereotypes surrounding body image. Because the reality is this: being thin did not equate to happiness for me. Yes, being a size 4 made clothing shopping easier and garnered attention from strangers. But it also created an unhealthy obsession with my body image, workouts, and calorie counting.
Happiness is not contingent upon being thin, nor does being larger equate to sadness. Thinness is not a ticket to joy, and it certainly isn’t a remedy for life’s struggles.
I’ve been ruminating on this topic for weeks, and a recent article I encountered compelled me to finalize and share my thoughts. We need more voices to drown out the incessant messaging about weight loss and beauty standards that are often unrealistic.
After adjusting my medication for bipolar disorder, I’ve gained an additional ten pounds since that last photo. Admittedly, many of my clothes no longer fit, which can be discouraging. However, I now experience a profound sense of peace and joy that I never found before. To me, those ten extra pounds are insignificant compared to the ability to engage with my kids and prioritize my well-being.
I’m here to encourage you to embrace your body, regardless of its size. Wear that bikini with confidence, savor your pizza and ice cream, and relish in life’s pleasures without guilt.
Society wants you to believe that thinness equals beauty and happiness, creating an industry fueled by our insecurities. But the truth is, beauty can come in all shapes and sizes—even those that society deems “fat.”
This article is a reminder that we can redefine what it means to be happy in our own skin.
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Summary
This piece reflects on the author’s journey from valuing thinness to embracing a fuller, happier life. Despite societal pressures and personal struggles with weight, she finds joy in her body as it is, challenging the notion that happiness is tied to size.