In my early twenties, I found myself consumed by a desire to be thin. At my lowest weight of 112 pounds, my 5-foot-2-inch frame didn’t classify me as underweight. In fact, people often praised my appearance, telling me I looked fit and healthy. I accepted their compliments and began to believe I was destined to be skinny, having always thought I was simply curvier than most. Perhaps I just hadn’t exercised enough or made the right dietary choices. Fitting into size 0 jeans for the first time felt like a sign of my true potential.
However, what remained hidden from others was my drastic change in eating habits. I stopped having breakfast and lunch, opting instead to exercise first thing in the morning, terrified of missing the workout. My only meal before 2 p.m. consisted of a high-protein, low-carb muffin from a health store—doughy and comforting, it kept my hunger at bay until dinner. At dinner, I allowed myself to indulge in whatever I wanted, provided it was low-carb and high in protein.
Despite my seemingly healthy choices, I frequently felt dizzy and weak, even coming close to fainting on multiple occasions. My mind was consumed with thoughts of food, and I often found myself anxious about what I would eat and how I would eat it.
One day, after battling illness for a few days, I collapsed while walking back from the bathroom. My husband rushed to my side upon hearing the thud as I fell. Although I regained consciousness and was okay, it was a stark reminder that I had pushed my body too far. I had to change my ways and start nourishing myself properly.
I kept this struggle to myself, but I began to incorporate regular meals into my routine, which left me feeling disheartened as the scale reflected my “curvier” weight. Even after I started eating more, I maintained a rigid and obsessive relationship with food and exercise for several years, until my relentless pursuit of thinness began to fade.
Looking back nearly two decades later, I recognize how precariously close I was to a serious eating disorder. Throughout my journey into motherhood, I have found a healthier relationship with food and my body. I now understand how emotionally unhealthy my fixation was; if I had continued down that path, it could have resulted in serious physical consequences.
Although I never received a formal diagnosis, I recently discovered a term that resonates with my experience—“other specified feeding or eating disorder” (OSFED). According to the National Eating Disorders Association (NEDA), this condition manifests significant distress or impairment without meeting the criteria for other eating disorders. Signs of OSFED can resemble those of anorexia or bulimia, but not sufficiently to warrant a diagnosis of either. Importantly, one does not need to be underweight to be affected; individuals can be of average weight and still struggle.
Research indicates that OSFED is more common than many realize, with at least 1 in 20 people exhibiting symptoms, surpassing the prevalence of anorexia, which is reported at 1 in 200. Many individuals, like myself, go undiagnosed because they do not fit the typical weight criteria or display extreme symptoms. However, as Dr. Lisa Montgomery, a clinical psychologist specializing in eating disorders, emphasizes, the emotional suffering is equally intense regardless of diagnosis. Help is available, and it is crucial to seek it out.
If you suspect you might have an unhealthy relationship with food or struggle with your weight, I urge you to reach out for support. Don’t let the numbers on the scale cloud your perception of your relationship with food; deep down, you might already know the truth.
On the other side of disordered eating lies a beautiful freedom: the ability to enjoy food without guilt or shame. It’s about feeling comfortable in your own skin and genuinely nourished, both physically and emotionally. This is a journey everyone deserves to experience.
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Summary:
The author reflects on their struggles with an eating disorder despite never being underweight. They explore their obsessive relationship with food and exercise, the emotional toll it took, and the eventual realization of their unhealthy habits. With the discovery of the OSFED diagnosis, they highlight the importance of seeking help and finding peace with food and body image.