Trigger warning: weight loss, mention of disordered eating, depression.
My body has changed immensely over the past three years. On the far left is me in September 2009, right before starting my freshman year of college. In the middle is me in December of 2010, during my sophomore year of college. On the far right is me just a few days ago, in July of 2012, after finishing my junior year of college.
While my physical changes have depressed me (I quite liked being a size two, and now I’m a size twelve/fourteen), I have grown a LOT as a person these past three years. As much as it disappoints me that my body is now covered in stretch marks and that there are lumps and bumps where my skin used to be smooth, I’m not sure I would go back and change anything, if I could. If I had a choice to go back and keep my body the same way, but I also had to forgo my emotional development, I don’t know if I would do it. I’ve struggled with disordered eating in the past so the way I look has always mattered to me more than it should. It’s terrifying to think that I am going to have to lose weight without extreme methods.
Every day I wake up and think, maybe I can still fit into those size two jeans. Maybe they just shrunk in the wash. I used that logic for months before I finally realized I had to go up a size in pants. Then again. And again. And now, three years later, I’m scared my waistline will never stop expanding. I feel powerless, even though I know I’m not. It feels like my body changing is something that has happened to me rather than something that I made happen. I can’t accept that I’ve had an active role in my changing appearance. It terrifies me.
I’m trying every day to value myself and my body even though it looks way different than what it used to. I’m trying not to be self conscious, even though I’m insecure about my weight. I’m trying to celebrate my body and treat myself well, even when I feel like I deserve nothing.