“She weighs too much”
"She weighs too much," the doctor told my mom.
I was around eight years old, an athlete with rock-solid muscle, but when I stood on the scale and he matched my height with my weight, I wasn't on the chart. This was, apparently, not okay. Fifteen pounds was the goal to lose, and my mom did what she was told and followed the doc's instructions to help me. I was put on a restrictive, low-calorie diet, and, in addition to hours of either gymnastics, swim or diving practice, I did a Jane Fonda workout tape down in the basement. Some days, I did it twice.
I lost the weight. I was rewarded with love and praise and new clothes. But I was starving.
I started sneaking food whenever and wherever I could. I would get up in the middle of the night to eat and then hide the wrappers. If my mom gave me money for lunch, I would spend all of it on Rice Krispies Treats (damn, they are good, aren't they??) instead of what I was supposed to eat. At friends' houses, I would raid their cabinets stocked with snacks and treats that weren't allowed in our house. On vacation one year, a guy who played guitar made up a song called "Cathy in the Kitchen." One verse was, "'Oh no!' the Oreos scream. 'Watch out' ice cream!" You get the point.
This was the start of my very successful, almost professional, yo-yo dieting career that would last over three decades.
After losing the weight, I would then proceed to gain it all back. Sometimes, I would add a few additional pounds just for fun. I felt ashamed of myself every time. I would then go back to being a "good girl," get back on track with the extra workouts/low-calorie diet and lose the weight again. More praise came my way, but it never lasted.
The weight I was trying to stay at and the calories I was trying to stick to weren't sustainable for my build or activity level. Never mind that I was strong and healthy; if the number on the scale didn't say what it should, my body was wrong. I slowly started to hate it.
This continued through high school, and my memories of those years truly highlight how I became my own personal bully. My locker combination was 6135 because I weighed 161 and wanted to weigh 135. (I have spent much of my adult life WISHING I could weigh 165 again--LOL.) My self-esteem and confidence were at an all-time low. I was consumed with being friends with the "popular" crowd, but never really found my way. This left me, usually, by myself on weekends, ignoring amazing friendships I could have had with great, kind people. I was miserable, and I didn't know it then, but I sure know it now....it was 100% self-induced.
The things I said to myself in my own head are things I wouldn't say to my worst enemy. I am now 46 years old and FINALLY unraveling the years of being plugged into the wrong message. Since I was eight years old, that message has been:
You are fat.
You are ugly because you are fat.
You will never lose this weight.
You don't have enough willpower.
You are lazy.
Your body is disgusting.
Your body is wrong.
There is a lot more to this story, but FINALLY, I am learning to change that script in my head. For 30+ years, I have tried to "diet," and it always worked temporarily, but I never worked on my mind, and that is where the power lay (lies?). Now, I am plugging in to a different soundtrack and different beliefs about myself. Sometimes, I wish I could go back and tell my 14-year-old self what I know today, but then I guess I wouldn't be who I am today.
And, thankfully, I like me, extra weight and all.