It’s curious to reflect on how a choice I made at just 13 years old has shaped much of my adult life. At that age, I realized I could essentially deprive myself of food without anyone noticing. This realization allowed me to keep my weight-obsessed mother from seeing that I was growing up. I didn’t want to face the scrutiny that came with being a teenager, especially since my sister faced constant criticism about her weight. I wanted to remain invisible, avoiding the inevitable development of my naturally curvy Greek-Italian figure. The thought of my weight becoming a topic of discussion at family meals was unbearable.
For most of my life, I’ve battled eating disorders, rendering me unfamiliar with a healthy relationship with food and exercise. What I do know is what it feels like to have a toxic relationship with both—something that seems pervasive in today’s social media landscape. It’s perplexing that we’ve come to accept the public tracking of workouts and meal plans as normal, while simultaneously shaming those who don’t meet societal standards of thinness.
In a world where “just because the average size is 16 doesn’t mean it should be,” the juxtaposition is stark. It’s perfectly acceptable to boast about your workout routine or the latest detox diet, yet the moment someone gains weight, they become a target for unsolicited health advice.
Reflecting on my past, when I was at my thinnest, no one questioned my health—even as I repeatedly fainted due to malnutrition and exhaustion. Those moments, often laughed about among friends and family, were serious cries for help that went unnoticed. My ability to joke about my fainting spells masked the reality that my body was failing me.
Recently, I penned an essay discussing the challenges of finding clothes in size 14-16, which sparked a mix of solidarity and body shaming in the comments. The backlash was telling; it wasn’t my weight that upset them but my unapologetic stance about it. How dare I express dissatisfaction about clothing that fits my size? Shouldn’t I be ashamed instead?
It’s been four years since I broke free from the disordered habits that once consumed me, and during that time, I’ve gained 45 pounds. This transition has been anything but easy, especially for someone who spent years fixated on the scale. Yet, I haven’t spent those years indulging in unhealthy habits as critics might suggest. I had my second child, relocated twice, switched careers, and dealt with various personal stresses. I couldn’t resort to my old coping mechanisms; I refused to let them take hold of me again.
Sure, I have days when I look in the mirror and feel dissatisfied, but that fleeting self-critique pales in comparison to the darkness I experienced during my years of self-destruction. After a recent bout of anxiety, I underwent numerous medical examinations to ensure my health, and the results were clear: I am in perfect health.
Despite having developed some unhealthy habits, such as relying too much on coffee and quick carbs during busy days, I realize that survival mode often takes precedence over appearances. It’s striking how, in nearly three decades of battling my weight, I was never questioned about my health until I began to gain it.
Now, I choose to eat better and exercise not out of obligation but because it feels good. After years of self-loathing, I’ve found peace with my body, even at my heaviest. I refuse to spend another moment berating myself for not being thin. So, to the internet health critics—don’t worry about me; I’m doing just fine. I have love and respect in my life, and I’m dedicated to sharing my story, including my journey with my body.
And let me be clear: I want clothes that fit!
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Summary:
This piece reflects on the author’s journey through body image struggles and eating disorders, emphasizing the societal pressures surrounding weight and health. It highlights the complexities of navigating personal health while confronting external judgments and advocates for self-acceptance and the need for clothing options that accommodate diverse body types.