Can we have a more balanced, more realistic approach to eating, dieting, and body size? Our readers continue to share their perspectives
Name Withheld
For the longest time, the mirror was my accomplice in my deceit of self. I only used the bathroom mirror, where I could only see my face. I didn’t have to see the wreckage I’d done to my 400-pound body.
Yes, the numbers on the labels of my clothes told me my size, but if they had elastic, I could “cheat” into a smaller size. Cheat is a nasty little word. It sounds as if you’re getting away with something, when you’re really harming yourself. The few times I actually tried to diet, I would invariably “cheat” and eat things that were not “allowed,” then figure, “What’s the use?” and go back to my old eating pattern.
You see, I’d found early on that if I steadily ingested large quantities of carbs and sugar, I didn’t feel my feelings as intensely. I’d developed this unhealthy coping mechanism to deal with my life. Of course, I wasn’t aware of it at the time, as I was just a child but it helped… for a while. Until it didn’t.
I kept using the only tool I had to cope and kept getting bigger, which brought on more psychic pain. There was no way out. I was going to die. Let’s not forget my parents’ promises of all kinds of wonderful things if I would just lose the weight. And all those reminders that no one was going to want to marry me because I was so fat. I think I’ve painted the picture bleakly enough. I heard the message, loud and clear: If I’m fat, I’m unlovable.
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