I remember the exact day when I finally hit rock bottom. I had binged the night before, first eating pizza and then buying mountains of sweets and icecream from the shop afterwards. As a counter measure I had taken laxatives before going to bed.
When I woke up that morning, I barely made it to the toilet. It wouldn’t have been the first time that I had had an “accident” because I didn’t get there in time. In between the urgent bathroom episodes, I lay on the couch crying in a fetal position. My hands and ankles were swollen beyond recognition and my skin felt stretched, tight and ready to burst. I called in sick to work.
I didn’t know what I was going to do, but I knew I couldn’t continue starving and bingeing any more. I had to stop what I was doing, I had no choice. In September 2009, I binged for the last time.
In the months that followed I slowly gave up everything — counting calories, weighing food, weighing myself and going to the gym. My body was so sick and tired.
In 2010 a whole lot of things happened. Even now, I don’t know if they happened because I stopped obsessing about my weight, or if they would have happened anyway and I was fortunate to have let go of my self loathing and destructive behaviour before the shit started.
So here I am after more than a year of not dieting or exercising. I’m that girl that you read about who loses tons of weight and then regains it all. I’m the one who you can hold up as an example of why intuitive eating doesn’t work. I may be the one you feel sorry for, or the one you feel superior too because at least you’re still within a few kilos of your ‘goal’ weight. I’m that girl who competed twice in a body building competition at 54kg and is now 77.9kg. (oh yes, I can hear you saying ‘fucking hell’)
But instead of hating myself, and hating that I’m probably 10-15 kilos heavier than where I would prefer to be, I am simply thankful for the healing weight. And it is indeed healing weight – it has healed my disordered eating, it has healed my exercise compulsion, it has healed the need to control everything, it has healed the pain of loss, it has healed my body dismorphia and it has healed my perfectionism. I look in the mirror and see nothing but a beautiful woman with womanly curves. I catch my reflection in windows and smile at how radiant I am. I wear a bikini to the beach and feel less self conscious than I did when I was at my smallest.
I am so at peace about losing some weight and I know it is exactly the right time to take action. I have picked up the dumbells again and I am gently coaxing my muscles back to full strength. I am eating healthy food without a whole lot of carbs because that is what has always worked as long as I’m not working out like a fiend.
Yes, I’m that girl who lost weight and put it all back on. But I’m OK with that. In fact, the last year has brought me more happiness than I could ever imagine, and if I had to gain 15 kgs to get to this place, then I wouldn’t have wanted anything different.
I am not a failure, I haven’t undone all my hard work, I am not fat and disgusting. I am delighted that my larger body has brought me more happiness and made me a stronger person than being competition lean ever has.
I know the road won’t be easy, I know there will be setbacks and disappointment along the way, but that will happen no matter what I choices I make. Ups and downs, good and bad, hard and easy. This is living authentically, this is living a great big adventure.
But through it all, through it ALL there is a peace in my heart and in my head that is indestructible. I am love, loved and light.