My weight loss (and gain)

(TW: THIS IS MY EXPERIENCE AND I AM NOT ENCOURAGING MY THOUGHT PROCESS OR WHAT I DID TO ACHIEVE A CERTAIN GOAL. THE THOUGHTS EXPRESSED HERE ABOUT BEING ‘SKINNY’ OR FEELING MORE ‘LIKEABLE’ ARE LITERALLY THOUGHTS I’VE STRUGGLED WITH, AND IM KEEPING IT AS HONEST AS I CAN, all of this in hopes I might help someone who has struggled with similar issues.)

In all honesty, while I see tiktoks delving into these kinds of topics, I’m guessing it would’ve been more helpful for me to have it written down on paper so I could process and interpret these kinds of things at my own pace. So here I am.

Weight is and has always been a big struggle with girls, especially. Even if you think you’re unaffected to what ‘society expects of you’, I think most people introject their insecurities from what they see, whether they are aware or not. And throughout my teenage years, I found out that most of the time, painting it pretty does no good. I have had every single reason to lose weight (or whatever the fuck that means in my head, if you know what I mean)—and I have. Let me explain.

I guess you could always say I had an issue with food. Mom was always working and our go-to meals would be takeouts, which isn’t that healthy. Or healthy, at all. But even then, if you had a semi-balanced diet, you could keep your weight. Issue is, I never did. Up until I turned 15, my weight was at its highest: 83 kilograms. Mother would always complain about how I couldn’t dress a certain way because I looked fatter and would instead recommend I buy dark clothing. Has that ever happened to you? Though she asked me to lose weight a couple of times and tried to get me into a diet, I never did agree. Her relationship with food hadn’t been the best one when she was a teenager, maintaining rigorous diets that had a cost on her health, and so I was both self-conscious but refusing. And then, freshman year in high-school happened.

When I heard my childhood friend call me fat through the phone when he thought I wasn’t listening, that moment was a big eye-opener for me. I wanted not to be healthier, but prettier, and it kind of sent me in a spiral. Maybe that’s why I had so few friends or why I always felt invisible. And that’s when I began actively to lose weight. Nothing drastic, just dropped a few things out of my meals: soda, any kind of sugary beverage, most carbs. And since my body was not used to the lack of sugar, the weight loss I experienced was drastic. In about four months I’d lost ten kilograms (around 20 pounds).

But, still, I couldn’t please mother, and to a certain extent, blaming myself more than her, I could never please that voice in my head. I had to be skinny to fit into these jeans and wear this shirt and things that didn’t really matter but continued to affect me. The shape of my body was changing, and the more I saw the number on the scale drop, the more I was incentivized to continue losing, see what my body looked like. And little by little I started adding exercise (not much, though, just walking around for half an hour, doing basic self-strengthening exercises) and seeing how THAT affected my body. But, let me tell you one thing: even if you lose weight and workout, if it isn’t for the right reasons your body will resent you for it. And so of course my hip-dips didn’t go away, and my thighs hadn’t developed a gap yet and I was disappointed.

Come junior year of high-school, I decided I was going to stabilize my weight. I was around 70 kilograms, and nowhere near where I wanted my body to look—or rather, what I wanted my body to look like. That was, particularly, like every single model on IG. And then, this boy I liked started liking this girl, and the more I paid attention to it, the more I couldn’t let it stop bothering me: she was gorgeous. And I wasn’t. And so, here comes the second wave of weight loss.

That girl had the word perfection written along her curves. And surely that was why boys seemed compelled by her. The fact she always wore tight clothing and was not ashamed of her body made it the more appalling to me. I wanted to have that much confidence. I wanted to look that pretty in sweats and a t-shirt. And so I’d have a meal a day, at the most, throughout the entirety of the summer, and sleep most of the day off. Mind you, that’s what happens when your body is lethargic because you’re not eating enough. And it worked wonders. Of course. I kept it up for a couple weeks before I gave it up. But the damage was already done.

My psyche was hellbent on looking like her, never mind her different height and body shape. It was just so much comparison I began crying because the stuff I bought to ‘copy’ her didn’t fit me the way it did her. And mother was congratulating me on my weight loss but also complaining I wasn’t eating enough, and once a week or so I’d break that starving session and bulk eat everything I could find.

Come senior year of high-school, I was at my lowest. 65 kilograms. And it’s okay, I started to resemble what the notion I had in my head, I guess, but I wasn’t happy with myself or my body or my confidence anymore. I lived for the compliments of others and I could never get enough.

And then, the issue with my mother started, and throughout December and January (my lowest of lows) I lost weight again. Not because I was planning to, but because I felt so sad I couldn’t even find the motivation to look for or cook something to eat. With 60 kg on the scale, I said I was officially done, and whoever didn’t like my body could suck it. Only… not so much.

When the pandemic started a couple of months later, I started weighing myself every day again. And, I realized, I was gaining weight. Of course it made sense. I was no longer going to school and walking to and fro. I wasn’t working out and everything at home was shitty enough as to cook for myself. And, I felt, my body was imperfect, ugly. My thighs weren’t slim, my butt wasn’t ‘perky’ enough (whatever that means) and I started to workout and dieting again.

Throughout this process though, I did visit a nutriologist—because, my boyfriend, knowing the things I’d done to myself in the weight department in the past asked me so. And yeah, it helped a lot. Lost 5 more kilograms in about three months of controlled eating. But, even weighing what is exact on my BMI, even looking healthy, I still get the urge to lose more, feel semi-guilty whenever I want something sweet, counting calories day and night and having nightmares when my scale gains .3 kilograms.

My point with this entire post is to let you know that, though you may not realize it, your relationship with food might not be correct, healthy, and you might not be looking out after your body for the right reasons. Even if you think you’ll feel happy once you hit that goal you’ve always had in mind, if you feed into that little voice in your head, you won’t be happy. And you’ll want to lose (or gain) more. And more. And more. And that’s how eating disorders begin.

I was lucky enough to not develop one of those, and every day it is a struggle to force myself to have dinner or not count the calories in a cookie. I’m still struggling with learning that with workout comes muscle and muscle comes with weight gain. Fluctuations throughout the month regarding your weight are also normal. But not to me. Yet.

And so, friends and folks, that something I never thought I’d share but thought it was necessary. Your body is sound and beautiful NO MATTER THE SHAPE. And, should you want to change it, or tone it, or whatever, don’t starve yourself. Do things the right way, even though it might not always be the fastest. Nobody else should have a say in your body, and all those trends on the internet are not real. Of course you think your body is shaped weirdly. You spend the entire day pocking and trying to change it. You do not see yourself as others see you, and that could potentially lead to great health risks. Please, be careful, talk it out with someone you love.

Thank you for reading.

Profuse greetings, mel.