Trigger warning: disordered eating
Ah, the toxic world of diet culture. Growing up in the 1990s, it felt almost inevitable. I remember attending Weight Watchers meetings with my parents, learning to calculate points, and sneaking my first Slimfast shake in my early teens.
Entering high school in 2003, I faced a world where low-rise everything was trendy, and the ideal body was a long, lean silhouette—a standard I was never genetically inclined to achieve. During my tweens and teenage years, I continually pursued every quick fix that promised me slimmer thighs. The sight of my collarbones barely peeking through my skin made me feel fragile and beautiful, but it also marked the beginning of my long struggle with an eating disorder.
The journey began when I stepped into high school, where newfound freedom allowed me to skip lunch or replace it with diet soda without anyone noticing. As a member of the pom-pom squad, I was one of the first girls to fully develop, and I despised it. I felt an intense shame whenever I couldn’t shop in the juniors’ department, while my classmates flaunted their slim figures.
I convinced myself that nothing would taste as good as being thin felt. Over the next four years, I fell into a relentless cycle of yo-yo dieting and binge eating. Ironically, I can’t recall what I weighed back then; I was so consumed with how my body felt that the scale became irrelevant. The struggle stemmed not from a physical state but from a toxic inner dialogue.
Outwardly, I appeared to be an average 5’5″ young woman—not excessively thin or morbidly obese—but inside, I was battling an insidious disorder known as OSFED (Other Specified Feeding and Eating Disorders). While I never fell below 100 pounds, I meticulously counted every calorie and had strict rules about my diet. I avoided eating in public for fear of judgment, believing others saw me as a worthless person who couldn’t control my impulses.
Engaging in these behaviors for nearly eight years wreaked havoc on my metabolism and insulin sensitivity, affecting my ability to manage weight even today. I tried every diet imaginable, from Weight Watchers (back when it was just Weight Watchers) to Atkins and even questionable appetite suppressants. Because my case didn’t fit the textbook definition of an eating disorder, seeking help was a challenge.
The turning point came with the birth of my daughters in 2012 and 2014, which initiated a nine-year journey of recovery. My motivation stemmed from not wanting my daughters to experience the same pain and devastation that I did. Although toxic diet culture persists, I strive to dismantle its harmful narratives in our daily life.
In our home, we promote a positive relationship with food and our bodies. We eat for energy to play and enjoy life, without moralizing our food choices. Exercise is about keeping our bodies strong, not a punishment.
Now that my daughters are 6 and 8, I anxiously hope their experiences differ from mine. I can only do my best to model body acceptance and engage in open conversations about self-love.
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Summary:
This article reflects on the author’s struggles with diet culture and eating disorders from adolescence through young adulthood. It emphasizes the importance of fostering a healthy relationship with food and body image for future generations. The author expresses a desire to shield her daughters from the same struggles she faced, promoting open dialogue and healthy habits in their household.
SEO metadata:
Author: Julia Thompson
Date: May 27, 2021
Keywords: diet culture, eating disorders, body image, parenting, recovery