Ok so lets talk about my morning. Well lets go back further than that. To urgh... my weight.
I am not a naturally thin person. I have good German genes (and I don't mean the ones that you buy). I mean I am of good stock that if there was ever a famine I would be the last one standing. The thing is... I like being thinner. It is a personal preference. The down side of this is that I have been fighting my weight for the last 30 years. 30. Friggin. Years.
Thats 30 years of being careful of what I eat, beating myself up if I eat too much, thinking about food every minute of the day, hating myself when the scales say I have gone up in weight (that is when I can build up the courage to weigh myself), feeling like a weak failure when my clothes are tight, looking at photos of myself at amazing times of my life and all I see is fat.
They way I have managed to control my weight is with stupid diets and stupid amounts of exercise. The amount I need to exercise to maintain a size 10 is insane. And very hard work. At least 6 days of exercise a week, with at least 5 of them being long amounts of running. At least an hour. No less than 7kms. Usually 10km. Sometimes more. It makes me tired, it makes me sore, but most importantly it makes me thin.
Fast forward to the "Great Stress Fracture of 2015-2016" which was part of the 'The Mother Fucker of a Year When My Life Fell Apart for a Little While". The stress fracture stopped my in my tracks. Both physically and mentally. I can see it needed to happen. Like my counsellor said " You needed to stop. You didn't so your body stopped you."
I didn't do anything because I couldn't. So I put on weight. In my insane desire to be thin I started exercising again too early and if I am honest I'm sure this is the reason that my leg has still not fused and I'm looking at surgery. The one thing I did do though was realise I needed to start looking at my very unhealthy relationship with food and my body image. I needed to start to understand that I am more than a number on a scale, a number on a label, or a roll of fat. I am more than that. I can't keep fighting my curves forever. I am exhausted.
I have made some steps to get healthy. I have quit sugar, I have lowered my consumption of carbs and upped my consumption of vegetables. I have (reluctantly) lowered my alcohol consumption and I couldn't tell you the last time I had chocolate. I am trying for a life style change. I am trying to undo 30 years of obsession. It is hard, and it is slow. Really, really slow.
It is only in the last few days that I have started to see what I am beginning to accept ( I don't really like it yet) what I see in the mirror. A size 12. I am in a healthy weight range and my BMI is fine. I can laugh that I broke the zip on my size 11 jeans and I even had a chuckle when I told my friend that the squeaky noise she heard on our walk was not my shoes- but the sound of my thighs rubbing together in my gym pants.
And then this morning happened. A person who I say hello to on our morning walks commented on how much weight I had put on. It was that sentence that tore down all the hard work I had done in building myself up to start feeling ok about the "newish" me. The one who had has finally stopped fighting with my genetics and relaxed. I know it shouldn't have. I know I should have laughed it off. I know that comments of a person I hardly know shouldn't matter. I know that she is old and old people don't have a filter. I know I should have said " You think I'm fat now! You should have seen me 2 months ago." I know some people have real problems and this is a first world problem of a middle class white girl. But it hurt. Really really hurt.
I didn't cry. I told her she was rude. When she did the " I'm just the sort of person who says what I think." I told her that sometimes you can't if it is going to hurt people.
I honestly don't really know what my point of this blog is. I am angry and I am sad that I am made to feel that if I am not a size 10 I am not looking good. I am angry and sad that someone feels it is ok to "say what they think" even if it is insensitive. I am angry and sad that people don't ever take a step back and be kind. I'm angry that the pressure that exists to be thin and being thin is more celebrated and important than being a good person.
I'm selfish. I honest hardly ever notice peoples' weight. I will talk about it with them if they bring it up. I will offer diet and exercise advice (because I am a bit of an expert) if they bring it up. But the one thing I will do if I notice someone has either put on or lost a lot of weight is be concerned- and wonder if maybe something is going on in their life. I would never tell them they are fat. Because I don't care about your size. I care if you are a nice, kind, good, caring person. Bonus points if you make me laugh. We are all going through our own shit. So maybe if you can't say something nice. SHUT THE FUCK UP.
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