Taking control over my eating disorder

Getting dressed has become such an ordeal lately.

I moved back to Guam with just one suitcase with all my belongings (clothes, shoes, and books included), but I’ve bought a few tops and bottoms over the past year.

Since last September, I’ve gained at least 10 pounds. I probably lost 10 pounds of muscle and gained 20 pounds of fat total, because I stopped working out and I used to be on a fairly strict workout regimen in 2016.

Now the clothes I brought over from California don’t even fit me anymore, and I’ve had to give away a few pairs of my favorite jeans because they can’t possibly button around my waist.

I feel bad every time I need to get dressed because almost nothing fits me right anymore. I end up changing clothes ten times before going anywhere, scrutinizing myself in the mirror. I often just give up and wear the same outfits repeatedly, usually the ones that hide my stomach most.

By no means am I the slightest bit overweight — I’m average for my height now, for the first time in my life.

But the problem I came to terms with four years ago has crept back into my life, this time stronger than I’ve felt it in years.

It’s no big secret that I had (and still have) body dysmorphic disorder, and am recovering from anorexia nervosa. I wrote a blog post about learning to love my body in 2013 after I realized I had a problem and I was underweight. I shared about my body dysmorphia on Instagram last year, while I was coming to terms with my changing body after college.

In 2013, I realized I had body dysmorphic disorder and had been starving myself for a year or so to stay thin. I was so scared to weigh over 100 pounds, so I checked the scale obsessively to make sure I was at 99 at the most. I weighed about 97 pounds and I’m about 5’4-5’5 in height.

What I considered a scary time in 2012.

I took pleasure in buying XXS clothes. I was so proud of myself when I bought a 00 pair of jean shorts at American Eagle (I’d be surprised if I could fit one thigh in it today). Some days, I’d work out at the gym and my only meal that day would be a couple of Hot Cheetos and Sour Patch Kids.

It’s weird because I’m never really aware of it or in control of it. It’s kind of like the voice in your head that tells you to do any task, like when to brush your teeth or when it’s time to go to bed.

It tells me not to eat because it knows I’m going to get “fat.”

When I look down at my stomach, it tells me I’m disgusting.

When I wash my body in the shower, it tells me my mid section is too big and soft.

When I look at myself in clothes that don’t fit right, it tells me to lose weight.

When I look in the mirror, it tells me I’m ugly.

And I listen. Every time.

Over the years, I’ve gotten better at telling myself it’s wrong. I don’t know why it’s there or how it came to be.

But it gets worse when I’m going through periods of high emotional stress — like difficult breakups in the past. Now I think it’s back because of work stress, anxiety, and other personal issues.

I let myself go a bit over the past year, eating whatever junk food I want, eating socially (because it’s Guam, and that’s what you do), and snacking like crazy at night.

Left: summer 2012; Right: summer 2017.

So now the voice has gotten meaner than ever.

I weighed myself at 119 last month. I couldn’t believe it.

I told myself it was fine. I mean I’m average now. Is that really so bad? I’m still skinnier than a lot of people my age, so it isn’t a big deal. And I’m getting older so my metabolism is slowing down. It’s normal.

Still, I found myself measuring my waist every day in the morning (since you’re supposed to be your thinnest when you wake up).

Almost 29 inches. You fucking fat bitch.

I pinch my rolls and feel devastated.

The following weeks:

Still too fat.

27 and three quarters of an inch. Better. But still too fat.

I’ll be happy when I’m at 26 again, I tell myself every morning.

I nod with affirmation at the mirror thinking, yes, then I’ll be happy.

But another voice in my head (damn I sound crazy with all these voices) says softly, but when you were a 25 waist, were you happy?

I pause to listen.

No, I wasn’t happy back then. I was hungry.

Not just for food, but for satisfaction with myself.

After staring at myself tonight in old clothes that are too tight, examining my belly profile from different angles, I finally told myself, fuck it.

Even if I did it the healthy way by eating right, cutting out snacking before bed (which I should still probably do because it’s a bad habit in general), and exercising, I would still be measuring myself. Even if I hit 26, hell 25, would I really be happy?

I know if I monitor myself thinking that being skinnier will make me happy, instead of dealing with the anxiety, stress, and insecurities I have internally, I will never be happy.

I need to throw out whatever unrealistic expectations I have for my body.

I’m 24 years old. I’m not 19 anymore.

I have belly rolls, stretch marks, and cellulite.  I feel my fat shake on my body when I walk. I feel my thighs rub together.

But is that all really so bad? And who said it was bad to begin with?

For the first time in my life, I’m finally able to wear my bras without a huge gaping hole at the top. I’m finally fuller. I’m not stick-thin and my teenage body wouldn’t be attainable even if I threw up every day and starved myself.

I finally look full and healthy.

I look the way Woman Chloe should be, and I need to stop hanging onto Teenage Chloe.

I need to let go because the only person standing in the way of me feeling beautiful and happy is me — and that tiny mean voice inside that tells me I’m not enough.

Left: 2011; Right: 2017.

Love Your Body Because YOGO

YOGO: You Only Get One.

“Why do you live in your body like you will be given another? As if it were temporary. You starve it, you let anyone touch it, you berate it. Tell it that should be completely different. You tug at your soft flesh, wish it thinner, wish it gone. You fall in love with those who praise the way it sighs under their hands, but who praises the way it holds up your weight, even when you are falling apart?”

–Warsan Shir (I got this quote from Tumblr so I’m not 100% sure the source is accurate)

I came across this quote months ago and it touched me. I’ve gone through periods of my life when I hated parts of my body. Everyone always told me how skinny I was, but I didn’t see it. I saw a belly that covered the rock-solid abs I wanted. I saw boobs that weren’t big enough. I saw a big fat mole covering my face. And after gorging myself this summer, I see a butt that won’t fit into my favorite size 0 shorts, and thighs that ripped a seam in my jeggings.

Coming to terms with loving my body has been an uphill battle since middle school, but I’m getting there, slowly. This summer has helped me greatly.

Today I went to a follow-up check-up with a nutritionist I’ve been seeing for a few months. All summer, I’ve looked forward to this check-up because I got to tell her how much I’ve progressed this summer.

It started in May, when I saw the nutritionist because I thought I had an eating disorder (don’t worry, it was a false alarm). She told me, however, that I was very underweight (which I already knew) and that I needed to gain about 15 lbs to be healthier.

I’m ashamed to admit this, but the thought of gaining weight used to scare me, subconsciously, although it took me a long time to admit it. I’ll be honest, I was only 97 lbs and I’m 5’4. My body image standards probably stem from knowing that most of the women in my family are very thin and are around my height. And being constantly bombarded with images of beautiful women everywhere didn’t help either–from Victoria’s Secret commercials to those unrealistically thin girls on Tumblr with the huge thigh gaps, and images of skinny-yet-busty women are everywhere. You get used to it, but that doesn’t stop it from chipping away at your self-esteem.

So this summer, I decided to just say, fuck it.  Maybe I won’t be Victoria’s Secret Angel thin, but I’m going to eat, exercise, and have fun doing it. I started keeping a food journal, but eventually stopped because it was too tedious. I probably overdid the eating this summer (I’ll blame/thank my parents for feeding me so well and so much), but the exercising was the key to the increase in my self-love. I still have some body image issues (I mean, who doesn’t?), but what really helped me grow personally and love my body were exercising, eating healthier, and blogging.

I’ve never been athletic in any capacity, but I’ve been trying the less-coordinated sports over the summer. My 4 parents are all regular runners (my mom co-coaches a running group and my dad was training for a 50 miler this year) so their enthusiasm rubbed off on me. I went for jogs with my mom and her running group once in awhile, which was really helpful because they’re all super nice and encouraging, strong women. Seeing women who are 20-40 years my senior kick my ass with endurance and distance was also a good motivator–if they can run like badasses in their 40s-60s, why can’t I do the same in my prime?

Running alone was also helpful for my positive body image and increased self-esteem. Not only did it feel super rewarding to push my limits without anyone but me to push myself, but it was a good opportunity to get some me-time and sort out my thoughts. I highly recommend running–but I’ll also add that people who don’t run very much should start out very small (as I’ve learned from Zen Habits about creating lasting habits). Running was also great for me because you can’t really mess up when you do it, unlike most sports. I have zero coordination, so running was a good way for me to stay fit without having to actually be that athletic.

Aside from running, I started really getting into yoga. Luckily there was an amazing deal for yoga classes at FIT House Davis, where I got to go to yoga for 10 days for $10. I’ve wanted to do more yoga before, but going with my mom and having a set time and date to go were great for getting me to actually do it. If you plan on getting into exercising, (whether it’s yoga, running, or anything else) I recommend going with a friend, family member, or any type of partner who you like enough to follow through with your workout meet-ups. A workout partner can help keep you accountable and can motivate you to actually exercise, since you have an obligation to meet up with them.

Yoga made me feel strong and healthy. I’ve honestly never sweat as much in my life as I did while doing Vinyasa (makes you sweat like a motherf*cker). I’ve also never felt as content with myself and my life as I was when I did yoga and meditation.  I promise to do a whole post about de-stressing and yoga/meditating later, but for now, I very highly recommend yoga to everyone–whether you have body image problems (you can get an awesome body quickly by doing yoga), stress issues, anger problems, and so on.

All the working out that I did made me really hungry. And personally, I don’t give a shit about being skinny when I’m hungry. We only eat vegan food at my dad’s house, and I don’t eat red meat at my mom’s house, so I ended up eating very healthy while I was back home for the summer. I missed the days of frozen cheap Totino’s  pizzas and bags on bags on bags of sour Skittles, but I got used to their absence when I didn’t have an opportunity to eat much junk-food with my family.

I have the biggest sweet tooth you’ve ever seen, but my tastes changed over the 3 months of healthier eating. I started craving fruit much more than candy. I ate the salads my mom prepared without complaining. I craved veggie burgers from the Habit instead of beef burgers. I only ate McDonald’s once all summer–a stark contrast to the weekly (often more than once a week) McDonald’s I had during the school year. If you make small changes in your diet, your tastes will change eventually, and your body will thank you for it in the long run.

Eating healthier and exercising got my me into good physical shape, but I wouldn’t love my body the way I do now if I hadn’t started this blog. Sorting all my thoughts into writing, sharing my stories with the world, and getting feedback on my writing increased my self-esteem immensely. It’s an amazing experience to hear people I know (and don’t know) tell me about how they’ve gone through the same things I have, or tell me that my advice actually helps. Just knowing that my advice is valid increased my self-esteem, and in turn made me feel better about myself overall–body image included. So I thank my super awesome readers for helping me on this journey; I wouldn’t be where I am today without all your love and support.

__________

I see so many girls around me–girls I love and respect so much–who all go through this same problem. I can’t even tell you how many times I’ve heard my friends tell each other “ugh, you’re so skinny, I hate you” or “I wish I had a thigh gap” or flat out talk about how much they hate their own bodies. It makes me sick to my stomach to see so many beautiful women hate the way they look and in turn hate themselves. I’m sick of seeing guys say “girls, you’re beautiful no matter what” then talk about girls’ flaws to no end. It’s fake. But this is real.

To whoever is reading this right now, I want you to know that you’re beautiful. Even if you don’t think you’re beautiful by society’s unrealistic standards, just know that you are. So do yourself a favor: stop comparing yourself to others. We are all made the way we are genetically, so there’s really no use in hating yourself for something you can’t change. The problem isn’t the way you look, it’s the way ads and our culture that focuses on symmetrical perfection and unrealistic standards. So fuck the standards! Love yourself!

What makes you most beautiful is having a beautiful heart and really loving yourself. Eat healthy, exercise, be good to yourself, and be genuine towards other people. That’s what makes you beautiful~

Lemme be your Zayn Malik gurl, because you don’t know you’re beautiful

4ec5d7dd91e15301a287

–Chloe