Do you know about - We All Have Hangups - Here's Mine
Deal Chicken! Again, for I know. Ready to share new things that are useful. You and your friends.I have a love/hate/loathing connection with my weight.
What I said. It isn't outcome that the actual about Deal Chicken. You see this article for info on anyone wish to know is Deal Chicken.How is We All Have Hangups - Here's Mine
I know that I'm far from alone, most women would say the same. Yet it seems like something we don't talk about, unless of procedure you are drastically over weight, under weight or have an eating disorder. What about the midpoint women who just have a vaguely unhealthy connection with their bodies? With food and clothing and maybe even ourselves?
Many are quick to blame fashion, what we as young girls see on Tv. For me it was never like that. Maybe it's my height, standing tall at 5ft, I never identified with the images on the magazine because it was never going to be attainable. Instead, I was struggling to keep up with the pretty girls in school and a mom who was a size zero, when I was far from it. I grew up chubby, with a love of food. When I was slight I would hoard candy in my room to try to get around my mom's sugary sanctions. As I got older my popular meal in the world was chicken fingers, fries and ranch dressing. I remember ordering it once, when out to lunch with family and having man point out to me how full of starch it was. "With cheer tryouts advent up, maybe you should make a different choice," they said.
In fairness, I probably should have. To this day I feel guilty when I choose that as a meal option, fully aware I should be making a healthier choice.
I've all the time hated working out- I enjoyed being active in things I enjoyed- dancing, cheering but never got that same joy from running, working out. So often I was too busy, or just too tired, to work it into my busy schedule.
Food isn't just food to me. Food is emotional- I lose when I'm happy, goal focused and busy. I begin eating when I have time on my hands, stressed or unhappy. In new years, eating also became an act of rebellion, mostly against myself.
During "pageant time" my years competing, dying to make it to Miss Indiana, I was in an almost constant cycle of terror with food. I'd keep track of calories, quantum out just the right serving size to make sure I didn't binge from hunger at the end of the day, while maintaining as few calories as possible. Lists of things were on the "Do-Not-Eat" list. Fast food, potatoes, anything fried, breaded or covered. Food was the enemy and I was carefully to get where I wanted to go.
And actually I did. I look at pictures of me while Miss Indiana and I am shocked- I remember at the time, not feeling any skinnier, but seeing at pictures- wow. The distinction is drastic.
It was great- I felt great. I looked great. I just kept trading in dance team uniforms, giddy to be going down a size. But god was I hungry.
I'd get so tired of everything being a mental battle- a "How much of a workout will I have to get in to have That?" I was conscious that what I actually wanted was to not have to think about it, to not have to worry about how I looked or what I was putting into my mouth. I was shocked at how often while that period, people would commentary on my size. people would ask if I should be eating anything was in front of me, or if I was mental about my swim suit.
But let me be clear, I don't blame them, I blame myself. I'd thrive on people admiring my measurement when I would skip anything food I was dying to eat. I couldn't wait for the next time man would point out how good I looked. I was like a junkie, straining for the next bit of clear reinforcement, letting it make me crazy. My weight loss plan played into every Ocd opinion I had and I let it.
Post Miss Indiana, I decided I didn't care how much I weighed, I just wanted to be happy. I'd eat what I wanted, when I wanted. I went straight through a ridiculously hurtful, and oh-so-overdramatic breakup, turned 21, and experienced the stresses of graduation, seeing a job and enthralling away from home. The combination? I found every one of the curves I had worked so hard to shed.
I alternated between embracing it and hating it, in a constant cycle of self doubt. I hadn't gained 50lbs. Or anything, but suddenly, I found myself hiding; reaching for bigger sizes, just so I wouldn't have to deal with clothes being too tight, making excuses, rationalizing. I love that I've gotten to a place where I eat when I'm hungry, indulge cravings when I please and try to mouth some sense of balance. Once I would eat just because something was in front of me. Now I stop when I'm full. I'd eat out of boredom, out of frustration. Now I try to remember that the food doesn't solve a darn thing, and try to keep myself busy instead.
But lately, that acceptance of food's role in my life, hasn't translated to my wide body image.
I've been called fat 3 times in as many weeks- once you've obviously read about (still no? You might as well right?), once by a unblemished stranger after ignoring his cat calls, and once by man who was just insensitive with a poor sense of humor. Part of me can't help but feel outraged. In a world of people who are downright obese you are picking on Me? Even at my heaviest, at 5 ft tall, I'm Far from the heaviest in just about any room.
But then I turn inward- the fact that I avoid eye sense with mirrors, that I find myself tugging at clothing, trying to make sure I'm all covered, not even bothering to reach for my skinny jeans- and that means I am feeling it too.
I have to remember: I'm not working out with the team 2 days a week anymore. I'm not teaching 3 nights a week or practicing/performing/running across campus anymore. I sit at a desk all day and am lucky if I make it out to do a lap around the circle for some air and a breath. Suddenly, the point of working out, of making a conscious attempt to get in that bodily performance is felt.
Because part of advent to terms with food, is also advent to terms with me. I can't be my best, if I'm worried about the things sticking out, or feeling the weight of how out of shape I've let myself become. I may never be as thin as I was back then, but feeling great? Yeah... Let's give that a try.
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