It’s no secret to anyone who knows me that I am not a tiny person. Whether it’s my height or my size, I’ve always been pretty big. But several days ago, I began to examine myself, and think about things. And I'm ready for a change. But first, let's go back.
For most of my life, I was always little heavier than all the other kids – partially because I was so tall. Thanks to dad, I’m big boned, so I looked a lot bigger than all those petite 7-year-olds. It was something I was always uncomfortable with. At 11, I was put on Speed-derived ADD medication. One of the side affects is that your metabolism is significantly heightened. I was slim, but not dainty: At the age of 12, I was a size 12. I hadn’t even hit puberty yet.
I was never athletic, but I did get plenty of exercise – I walked 1.6 miles every day from junior high home since the end of seventh grade. I also walked home during high school, although since the bus dropped me off, it wasn’t as far.
But then the ADD drug’s effect on my metabolism wore off – I’ve seen a lot of people who have been on these drugs gain a lot of weight once that happens. It started around the end of 10th grade. I was a little heavier, but not ridiculously overweight by any means. Still, doctors got on my case about losing weight immediately. It seemed like everywhere I turned I was hounded by it – at home, in doctors’ offices and of course by peers.
Then came that doctor with the stupid pill that made my body think it was pregnant. I gained weight so fast that I had stretch marks across my stomach and breasts (they have healed over since then, but I’m still self-conscious). The next year, the doctor put me on an anti-depressant thought to make its patients lose weight. I would be weighed every time I came to his office. It was embarrassing – to this day, I have a hard time stepping on a scale.
My mother purchased clothes for me in high school that weren’t flattering, so I didn’t feel good about my size. She would always reminisce about when I was slimmer, as if things were better then (they really weren’t). But when graduation came and I had to find a dress that could go under my gown, we went and I found myself an adorable little black dress. I didn’t realize that I could be a little bit bigger and at the same time be slightly sexy. This changed me.
As I went to college, I discovered myself in a way that I couldn’t while I was in high school. I found clothes that were cute, and began to experiment with the way I dressed. But weight was always an issue.
At the age of 21, after I had my blood clots, I lost over 50 pounds. I came back to school to guys hitting on me as I would make my way back across Cal State Fullerton. I was doing it in a very unhealthy way, though – I was on a low carb diet, which has messed up my stomach ever since. I also had to deal with a bully who would love to put me down on a regular basis. Depressed, I seemed to gain back the weight almost immediately.
Time went on. I became kosher, and I met my husband Ari always wanted me to take care of my weight, and I don’t think I was really ready – until now.
Two days ago, there were three things that changed me drastically. As I wrote this blog post, I realized that because of my issues with the drugs and the way people viewed my weight gains has affected the way I eat and the way I view myself. I realize that there are certain things that I can blame myself for, but I realize that I was also molded into loathing myself. I had to forgive myself and those who thought they were trying to help.
I also read this article. The fact of the matter was that it was the truth about how we’re taught about our weight: If you’re X size, that will make you happy. But that is never the case. Weight loss can only take care of health. It won’t get you a man, it won’t get you all your far-out dreams, and it certainly won’t make you happy.
And then, of course, I watched my new favorite show, Glee. I only got to see a half an hour, but it was amazing. I watched as Mercedes, a larger African-American girl, was pressured to lose weight now that she was on the cheerleading squad. She was put on a fad diet. Eventually, she saw all her friends as food and passed out. Later, she sang “Beautiful,” by Christina Augilera, prefacing it by asking people how they felt about themselves, if they felt ugly or fat or whatnot. I was moved to tears. I tried to find the whole clip, but the most I could find was on The Daily Beast -- it’s embedded below.
I think of my poor sister, who is so consumed with the fact that she’ll only be happy if she is a certain size, because only then will she be attractive to someone (a total lie – I have found that attractiveness is not as often measure of how someone’s body looks, but rather the confidence they have). She seems to be unable to move on with her life because of this. I realized as I was thinking about my life the other day that it wasn’t my weight that was the issue – it was the lack of control I felt I had in my life, and the pressure that people put me under. I refused to wallow – instead, I was going to change me.
I decided that I needed to change my relationship with food. I need to think about it differently and be conscious about what I put in my body. I love food and I love to cook. I have happy memories over food, but the food is not what makes me happy. It can’t replace feeling good about yourself and your life, and I know that losing weight is not a miracle cure for the pain that is underneath the surface.
But above all, I refuse to let people put me down regarding how I’m shaped or how I eat. I know I will never be super-skinny – thanks to my bone structure and height, I know will probably never drop below a size 14, if that. I refuse to let doctors make me feel like I’m less because I may not be my average weight, or let people treat me differently because I am who I am. As the song “Beautiful” says, you won’t bring me down today, or ever, because I understand that I let people do it all my life. And I refuse to let it happen again.
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