I finally hit my goal weight of 130 pounds. It was one of the happiest moments of my life. Looking down at the scale, I felt like I’d finally taken a leap into womanhood where nobody would mistake me for a little girl. Its always been hard for me to discuss my “skinny girl probs” because I never want to feel like I’m taking the voice away from my heavier sisters. Skinny girls are not discriminated against comparable in media; neither are they forced to work 3x as hard to find clothes that fit. However, I’ve been struggling with my weight since the first time someone called me a toothpick. Although it might surprise you, reaching 130 pounds solved nothing. I finally achieved this number I’d been thirsting over for about one year, and I still found holes to pick at. WHY AM I SO OBSESSED WITH MY WEIGHT? Let’s have a therapy session.
Two years ago, on July 28th, 2018, I took the title photo. I probably was around the 110-115 range and at the height of 5’1.’ According to the “BS Mass Indoctrination” scale or Body Mass Index, I was perfectly ‘normal.’ However, I was determined to gain weight. Almost every day, I was smoking and enjoying quantities of food that only those who’ve seen me eat would believe were finishable. I took Apetamin for a good two weeks (hated it) and tracked how many calories were consumed per day.
These super obsessive behaviors, however, did begin yielding results. By the same time in 2019, I had accomplished my “goal weight range” of 120. I call it a range because I gain and lose the same 5 pounds over and over. For example, when I was 110, my goal was to hit 116. Achieving that weight made me feel like I didn’t have to worry about being in the 110-115 range anymore and could hit 120. At this time, I was fluctuating between 120 and 125. “Goal weight” is also intentionally put in quotations, because once I hit 120, I still saw a skinny little girl with a bubble butt, but no real figure.
In 2019, the most emotional and transformative year of my life, someone tracked bed bugs into my parents’ house to make things worse. I thought my mom got a new detergent or something and that I was having allergic reactions. It started to get bad though. Every time I would leave my childhood home and come back to my apartment, I had welts all over my body and couldn’t stop itching. I slowly started noticing scars forming all over my body; arms, legs, back, and butt. Anywhere you could imagine that might be exposed while I was sleeping has a scar. I used to get terrible body acne and have dark spots from that, but these blood-sucking demons do something way worse to the body. Unfortunately, as someone who based much of her worthiness on appearance, these new scars did a number on my self-esteem. Regardless of my weight, I’ve always taken pride in how beautiful my legs were. And here they were, covered in welts.
To clarify, I was not only wrestling with my physical appearance. I was going through shredding of friendships, self -isolation, financial stress, feelings of unworthiness, and a plethora of other things. However, I was always able to fall on my appearance as a crutch. At the bare minimum, I liked what I saw when I was alone, in the mirror, and away from others’ influence. But not now, my legs were ruined. My skin wasn’t clear again, and I was sharing a room with my brother. Also, this isn’t even everything, just what I’m comfortable sharing.
Anyways, once I hit 120, my obsession became getting into the 125-130 range. It happened. THEN MY OBSESSION became getting to 130. Well, quarantine came, and we all slowed down. Guess what happened? I hit 130. Crazy thing? Sometimes I look in the mirror and still see the person in these photos. Sometimes I get around people who are meeting me for the first time, and they comment on how tiny I am, making me want to gain another 10 pounds. Sometimes I get around friends and family that remember this weight that say my thighs are too big, or my “butt is out of control,” and I think I’m fat.
Most times, I stare in the mirror naked for hours and think I’m the finest woman on earth and that my body is perfect. EVERY DAY IS NOT THE SAME. Some clothes make me feel different than others, and that is ALLLLL ok. Your weight will go up; the scale will go down. But, I should have never placed so much importance on the number I saw when I looked down. It was unhealthy, obsessive, and caused anxiety. I want the same realization for you. You, your body, is beautiful, regardless of what a scale says.
The most important thing is dealing with the subconscious insecurities that motivate the change. Are you trying to change your weight because you think big butts look good, or are you trying to change it because you don’t believe you’re attractive without it? Are you slaving in the gym, on a keto diet, and buying every workout plan under the sun because you want to be healthy or because “fat girls can’t wear shorts.” To heal from a trigger, you must first acknowledge that it is one. For example, my mother calling me fat is just as triggering as a stranger or friend calling me tiny. Why? Because my subconscious is hearing “you’re not good enough,” on both sides of the spectrum. It doesn’t matter what the scale says if we fail to heal the “you’re not good enough,” in our spirits. This is why I believe if you’re going to change the scale, do it for your mental and emotional health, not because someone that is outside of yourself comments. No matter who it is.