Grieving My Sick Body & The Thin Ideal, And Embracing The Body I DO Have

For as long as I can remember, I have wished I was thin.

Literally as long as I can remember. It is my earliest memory.

I was 4 years old the first time I had any concept of fat. 4 years old, and as innocent and tender as my age.

It was a Saturday morning, and my older brother, Jonathan, and I were in our pajamas. We were laying on the living room floor eating a plate of Cheetos. When we finished the Cheetos, my brother said, “Wow, we ate them all! We’re going to be so fat!”

As a 4-year-old, I had no concept of what that even meant, but I knew it must be bad, and it stuck in my mind.

The next year, in kindergarten, a classmate called me fat. I made the connection to my brother’s comment and remembered that it was the Cheetos that “made me fat.” It was then, at 5 years old, that I made the (false) connection that food makes you fat.

Without going into details, my eating disorder behaviors started at the innocent age of 5. I began working to control my body, trying to fit into the “thin ideal” that exists in our society.

Throughout my school years, certain instances of bullying stand out to me, which solidified my beliefs about myself and my body, and intensified my behaviors.

There was Brittany in 1st grade, who, when it was my turn on the swings, told me I was too fat for her to push me. Nicole in 3rd grade, who told me nobody would ever love me or want to marry me. William in 7th grade, who yelled “moo” and “wide load” when I walked down the hallway. Then in 9th grade there was the guy who took one of the wheels off of my chair when I went to the bathroom, so when I came back and sat down, the chair fell over, and the whole class yelled, “She’s so fat, she broke the chair!”

I’m not telling you these things for pity. No, I’m telling you these things to help you understand my history. To tell you where I come from.

My disordered eating showed itself throughout the years in small, seemingly insignificant ways. I was convinced – and I convinced everyone else – I was fine. I was just “a little weird with food.” However, my eating disorder took off in high school. I struggled with different types of behaviors at different times, but I won’t share the details here, because I refuse to let this become an instruction manual. What’s important to know is that it took over my life. It turned me into a liar. It made me sneaky. It isolated me.

In college and in my 20s, my eating disorder consumed me. It consumed every part of me. I don’t even remember much outside of it. I have to look at pictures to remember what I did in that time period. Literally all I remember is working 60-80 hours a week for Demonboss, working out X hours per day, running races, and wanting to die. I’m not exaggerating – on any of it. 😔

And here’s the thing…I achieved the body I was after. I lost the weight. My before and after photos got me some MAJOR recognition. I stood on stages in front of a thousand people. I spoke on training calls. I shared my story. I spilled my tea. I shared my top secret tips. I gave encouragement to other women. I said, “If I can do it, so can you,” while I was in the depths of Anorexia.

Even now, everything in me wants to drop a photo in here right now to show you my sick body. To prove to you that, once upon a time, I arrived. I didn’t achieve my Anorexia’s horribly unrealistic goal, but I did live in a thinner body. I enjoyed thin privilege. I walked into a store and picked up clothes I knew would fit. I didn’t have an irrational fear of chairs breaking when I sat down. I didn’t have to worry that the gown wouldn’t fit when I went to the doctor.

But showing you a picture of my sick body would only perpetuate the idea that my sick body is somehow better than my natural body. Showing you a picture of my sick body would be glorifying that sick body, and that’s the last thing I want to do.

Because…do I miss that body? Hell yeah I do. I cry over that body all the time. I’m grieving that body. I am literally moving through the stages of grief over that body, on my way to acceptance. I’m sad, and I think that’s okay. I think I’m allowed to be sad. And angry. And confused. And hurt. And a hundred other things. I miss my sick body.

Is it just me, or did you imagine yourself as a tall, thin blonde with big boobs and a butt when you were younger? I mean, I knowwww I have dark brown hair, but I still thought I’d somehow end up a tall, thin blonde as an adult. Turns out, genes are a thing. 🤷🏻‍♀️ (Though, I did go blonde for a couple years, and it was FUN! And THAT I will post a photo of!)

But what about this body? This body I’m in today. This body that woke up this morning. This body that my sweet puppy, Mercy, is sleeping on right now. This body she literally jumps on with all 55 pounds of her weight at 4:45 every morning to wake me up to feed her. These arms that have held minutes-old babies, and these feet that have run really long distances, and these fingers that play music, and these hands that write words, and this heart that loves fiercely, and this life that is so full.

None of that can exist without this body.

Society says a smaller body is better than a larger body.

Society is wrong.

Now, I’m not saying I’ve let go of my sick body and accepted my new body and all is well in the world of Mary. Ha! Not even close.

What I am saying is that logically, I know a smaller body is not a better body. A larger body is not any less worthy, it isn’t any less lovable, it isn’t any less beautiful. Just because society’s beauty standards are effed up doesn’t mean mine have to be.

Read that again: Just because society’s beauty standards are effed up doesn’t mean mine have to be.

So, how can you begin to change your own beauty standards?

Diversify your social media feeds. Follow people in all different kinds of bodies. Different sizes, different races, different ages, different abilities, different everything!
Being In Your Body Guided Journal I cannot say enough good things about this journal. Trust me…buy it, use it, you can thank me later. 😉 This could even be a good thing to use with a therapist or dietitian, if you’re someone who is really working on healing your body image or relationship with food and your body.
Look for beauty everywhere! Identify what is beautiful to you! If you see something, say something! Look for beauty that is deeper than surface level.

Some examples:
– Your smile lights up the room!
– I love your passion.
– You’re so creative!
– You have really great ideas.
– You are so brave.
– Your confidence is inspiring!
– I love the way your mind works.
– I really enjoy spending time with you.
– Your laugh is infectious. (Okay, maybe skip this one…ya know, COVID.)

Logically I know a smaller body isn’t a better body…but 30 years of programming has sure done a number on me. So here’s what I’m going to do:

I’m going to work to embrace the body I have now.

That looks like:

Self-compassion.

First and foremost, embracing the body I’m in now looks like self-compassion. It looks like giving myself grace and picking myself up when I fall and brushing off my own knees when I fall. And I will fall, because this shit is hard. No one ever said it was going to be easy. In fact, this is one of the hardest things I’ve ever attempted.
Not waiting until I’m in a smaller body to do the things I enjoy

I’ve always wanted to kayak with Orcas in British Columbia and go diving with Great Whites off the coast of Guadalupe Island and swim with Whale Sharks in Mexico. When asked when I’m going to do those things, my answer has always been the same…when I’m thin. Okay, so those things take a lot of money and planning and time…but I can do things like getting my scuba certification and finding other things I enjoy. Because *NEWSFLASH* you don’t have to be in a smaller body to do things you enjoy! I know, I know…

Taking photos

I realized just last night that I don’t take photos anymore. I don’t allow photos to be taken of me anymore, because I don’t like how I look. That ends today. I want my kids to have memories of ALL of my life. I want to be able to look back and show them, “Look, these are from Mommy’s dark years, when I went through a lot of healing so I could be the best Mom I could for you.” I want to give that to them.
Healing & Forgiveness

This is such a deep topic. Healing my heart, my soul, my body, my concept of all of those things, how I relate to myself. Forgiving myself, forgiving the world around me, forgiving my body, my body forgiving me. There is literally SO MUCH here. I could write on this all day. And I will…later.
There’s so much more…I’m only beginning to scratch the surface.

But here’s the thing: I exist in the world as I am. My body is what it is. I can’t change it. I’ve tried and it almost killed me. I exist in a larger body. That is a fact that I cannot change. So I will work to embrace it.

Here’s what I know: My body is deserving of unconditional love and gratitude and care. I commit to getting to know myself, and working toward accepting my body as it is, for it is worth seeing and loving as it is today. I surrender to the fact that my body’s set point is not a choice.

My body is wise and forgiving, and unconditionally loyal to the soul it holds. I deserve to feed it unconditionally—in times of joy, pain, chaos, and doubt.

I recognize that in order to live a peaceful and meaningful life, I must surrender to imperfection and uncertainty. There is a full life to be lived outside the black and white of my eating disorder. I commit to living in the gray.

And by letting go of my sick body and embracing my actual body, I am free to embrace life with all its beauty, pain, joy, and chaos. I agree that I deserve this life, and every bit of happiness and peace that recovery brings with it.

And I want to invite you to embrace your actual body today, too. Embrace your body as it is today. You are worthy of all the beauty and joy and love this world has to offer.

Does embracing your actual body mean you must first grieve your old body, or even the idea or a body you thought you could have? Maybe. But friend, I promise…It is worth it. I pinky swear.