My new found confidence is not based on my jean size

Please note, this is a different kind of 'success story', and my story is as of right now, incomplete. I still have a long way to go. I have been hesitant about posting here. And rightfully so. I am a slightly secretive person, and like keeping various aspects of my life a mystery. I am not completely stupid when it comes to nutrition. That is the irony in it all. People assume that those with eating disorders - BED, bulimia, EDNOS, or anorexia - don't know squat about nutrition. Which simply isn't true. We do. We spend excessive amounts of time searching for the secrets everyone else seems to know. How does he maintain such fine muscles, how does she never gain weight (barring normal fluctuations), how does he look so great and yet still eat a double cheeseburger once a month. We spend all our lives wondering, trying to figure this out. And we eventually do. Calories in, calories out. Lifestyle change instead of crash diet, exercise, moderation is key. But it is never that simple. Not for us. We are simply... wired differently, in some respects. We spend so much time researching the tricks, and the secrets, that we become obsessed. We can give our friends advice. Tell them that it's not really what you eat, but how much. Tell them that even walking is some kind of exercise. But that doesn't change our own, innermost fears.

Enter my story.

My entire life, I have been in a constant battle with food. It was never about body image, so much as this fear of losing control. I would, probably, qualify for a diagnosis of EDNOS. But I cannot afford therapy, so have never been officially diagnosed. I have seen the worst of disordered eating. Restriction, binging, overexercising until I collapsed to the floor. In the back of my mind, I always knew what I needed to do. But admitting that I knew never really got to the root of the problem. My problem wasn't my weight, it wasn't my body image. My problem was that I had made food both a friend and an enemy interchangeably. One year, I'd hate food so much I wouldn't want to eat most days. The next, I'd turn to it every time I felt depressed. It was a constant struggle, a constant battle. And then, I fell into binge eating so badly that it eventually led to compulsive overeating. Before I knew it, I gained 70 lbs. I went from 150 lbs to 220 lbs in a couple years. This was me at the height of my overeating.



220 lbs, at least. Size 42 in men's jeans. I don't know what size I was in women's, I'd given up trying to buy any. When the size 18's didn't fit at Ross, I decided I was content wearing men's jeans. After all, I identify as 'agender', anyway (I don't identify with either gender, so I mix and match elements of both). XXL. I remember seeing that picture. I was tagged in it on Facebook. I remember seeing it and thinking "Omg, is that really me?" The girl up there, she's not the person I am now. For many reasons. I am not the same size as her, I do not eat the way she did, and I have learned a lot more than she knew. She was relatively happy, but blissfully unaware that her knee problems were caused by her weight (I had bad knee problems back then, I used to joke that my dog and I had similar conditions - he has luxating patella), blissfully unaware that her teeth problems were being caused by eating too much sugar, and blissfully unaware that her heart pains were likely related to her diet. And seeing that picture awakened something in me. But I wouldn't know what it was until a year later. This picture was taken exactly a year ago. Right before the onset of my spiral out of binge eating and compulsive eating and into restriction.

People say we are defined by moments, and I suppose that much is true. The first moment that defined my next several months was that very day. After we left the beach, we stopped by McDonald's for lunch. I'll never forget the teenagers laughing at me. I had spent an hour trying to find a bathing suit that fit. I grew sad when I realized even the size 40 swimming trunks were too tight. And there were teenagers on the beach, who laughed. And people don't realize just how much their harshness can become one of those moments that define us. I finished my lunch at McDonald's, but I didn't feel full. I never felt full. Which is when I realized... I overate out of compulsion. Because I had literally lost my 'full' cues. I did not eat the rest of the time we were in Florida. And when we returned, I slowly stopped eating.

I will not blame my eating disorder on anyone. I think that, too often, people do this. They blame the internet, they blame the media, they blame models, actresses, actors. They blame the sufferer's mother. No one is at fault. I take full responsibility for my eating disorder. Not once did I look to the media and think I want to look like her. Not once did I think about my mother's issues with her body (and she has struggled with them) and relate it to my own. Not once did I blame the subcultures on the internet. Sure, in some cases, these things all work together to impact some people. But for me, the eating disorder had a much deeper cause. I was a binge eater and a compulsive over eater. I would binge in my room, and not realize how much I'd eaten until it was too late. I would eat two double cheeseburgers because I forgot what 'full' felt like. And because of this, I felt sad. I had grown used to people telling me You have no self control, or you have no willpower, or you're just not trying hard enough. The problem was that everyone - myself included - assumed that defeating an eating disorder should be easy. This, once again, goes back to me knowing how to lose weight but not knowing how to defeat my battle with food. So, I grew depressed because I didn't want to be seen as this person with no willpower. And I fell into a period of restriction deeper than any period I'd been through before.

It was a scary fall. It was never to lose weight. I started eating about 1,200 calories a day. So, I started relatively healthy (although debatable, of course), but spiraled out of control. Everyone began pointing out the weight loss, and it led to me falling deeper. But I wasn't happy. Everyone thought I should be, but they didn't realize how much I was struggling. I wasn't healthy, I wasn't happy, and I was terrified of what I was doing to myself. I lost more weight than I cared to admit while struggling with my eating disorder. I went from that smiling girl you see up there. To this girl:



I picked this picture for a reason. While it doesn't show all the symptoms, you can clearly see the effects it had on my body. The sunken eyes, the dark rings around them, the chapping lips, the cracked lips, the perpetually shocked look on my face, the cheeks that were slowly starting to sink in when this picture was taken. You can see how miserable I look compared to the girl who was 220 lbs. Everyone thought I should be happy, and yet I was happier when I was bigger. Of course, one can deduce I must not have been too happy to fall into the eating disorder the way I did, but that's not the point. The point is, one day, I looked in the mirror and I saw myself. Really saw myself. And I was scared. This was another moment that defines me. I stood in front of the full length mirror and I was scared. I was thinner than I'd ever been. I was still in a healthy BMI, but I had not lost the weight in a healthy way. And I could tell. My symptoms were rising. And when I was in the hospital, hearing the doctors talk about gallbladder disease, I knew I had to change.

Battling it all has been hard. But I realized I had to do it. I started my journey slowly. In the beginning, I reintroduced foods to my menu but quickly learned eating them hurt. I remember eating 1200 in the beginning, and feeling full. Looking back, I believe that was all psychological. I have tried to find help to tackle the psychological reasons behind why I did what I did, but it's been a bumpy road. I don't have insurance, so finding help has been tough. I do speak to counselors whenever I can, however. And I have went to the doctor or the emergency room when my physical symptoms grew worrisome. In any case, I have been in the battle mostly on my own. But I decided I wasn't going to give up. It's been hard. Sometimes, I still have days where I don't want to eat. Sometimes, I still have days where I'm tempted to binge. But I have been making use of what little resources I have. I joined support groups online, I did my research on what to eat and what not to eat. In the beginning, I got most of my calories in from liquids. Almond milk, soy milk (regular milk was hard for me to digest), hot cocoa, creamer in my coffee, juices. And slowly reintroduced solids to my diet.

It feels strange looking back at it all. The weight I lost in that time is no inspiration. I wish people would stop looking at it as though it was. What I am doing now might be, but even then, I'm not sure. I had lost weight even when trying to recover, and so upped my caloric intake. Now, I have found that I am maintaining it well. I must be. I am developing muscle on my arms. Now, I have reached a point where I realize food doesn't have to be the enemy. So many dieters cut out foods... they stop eating muffins, or cut out carbs, or stop drinking soda. But no one food is inherently bad. The key really IS moderation. The key is eating that banana because it's good for you, but still reaching for that Snickers occasionally because you like it - but only one, because an entire pack is too much for anyone. The key is being happy and confident in your skin. No matter how much you weigh. So many people dive in expecting confidence when they reach a certain jean size. But I believe a lot of them may be doing it backwards. You should enter your journey with confidence that you will reach your goal. Therefore, you should find the confidence before the change, for the confidence will make the change easier.

I do not want to be the girl I was when I was restricting. I became obsessed with numbers, I withdrew from the world, I look back at her and I hate her. She was not me. Then again, that 220 lb, smiling girl up there was not me, either. I had to find me, and that took a lot of soul search. And recovery. I came to MFP after a few months of having been eating more. And it has helped me. It has helped me a lot. For some in recovery, it is ideal to stop calorie counting altogether. For me, it helped. Because once I saw that it is normal to eat 1700-2000 (or more, exercise dependent) calories in a day... I felt comfortable doing so myself. It slowly started to feel safe. And I slowly started to realize I didn't have to overdo the exercise. I discovered a love for yoga, and pilates, and sometimes I still squeeze in cardio on days where my body can handle it. But I don't push myself. I don't exercise so I can eat that muffin, I exercise so I can manage my moods. It makes me feel good. It helps. I am no longer either of the girls up there. Now, I am someone who is moderately sedentary (except for when I have on campus classes at my college, with no transportation, I like to walk there) but gets off their chair every few hours to walk to the store, to walk her dogs, to do yoga, or to do 10 push ups. I am someone who can climb the stairs without my knee hurting or without feeling lightheaded. I am someone who can walk FAST again without chest pains. I am someone who realizes that food is not the enemy, and never was. My struggles have made me who I am. I will never be either of those girls again, but I can learn to be confident being the girl I am now.

I looked in the mirror today, and I felt confident. My confidence did not come from my weight. It did not come from the fact that I can fit a size 7 pair of skinny jeans now. Nor did it come from the fact that I found my size 42 men jeans in my closet and saw how big they were compared to my size 7 women's jeans. My confidence came from the fact that I battled obesity, I battled an eating disorder, and I'm alive. I'm alive, and I'm still pushing forward even when it all seems hard. My confidence came from my inner strength. Health is important, but it is also important to maintain good mental health, too. If someone asked me for tips on how to lose weight today... I would tell them. Don't expect quick results. Expect a struggle, expect a battle. Expect to get tired after 5 minutes on the treadmill in the beginning. There are no magic pills. There is no crash diet that will work permanently. Just go in with the confidence that you will succeed. You will succeed. And I know I will succeed, too. My confidence is not based on my jean size. That is just a plus. My confidence comes from inside. It comes from knowing that I faced two demons back to back and I looked them in the eye and told them that I was stronger than them. Because I am.

This is me today.
Arm muscles are a work in progress (seriously been thinking about weight training as my weights feel like dog toys now)