You're Not That Fat: Body Dysmorphia

I should start off with saying that I believe everyone struggles with their body in one way or another. There is not one person I know who wakes up every single day and looks in the mirror to say to themselves, “you are truly perfect.” That’s just not real, or at least for me it’s not. Sure, sometimes I think I look better than other times. Maybe I bought a new dress that slims me down in a way I absolutely love, or the high-waisted pants I own hide the fact I feel like I’m gaining a bit of weight. Even in those moments, I still don’t feel perfect. I buy additional shapewear so that dresses fit more smoothly, or I skip a meal so that I don’t feel more enlarged than my “morning skinny.” There are times that things just don’t fit right either. The other day, I put on a pair of pants that used to fit me perfectly, and I couldn’t sit comfortably on my bed unless those pants were unbuttoned and unzipped. Eventually, I gave up and traded them for sweats.

I started struggling with my body image around 5th or 6th grade. Imagine that—a ten-year-old, who is supposed to just begin learning about puberty and all things hormonal, can’t seem to look at herself in the mirror. The overwhelming insecurities shouldn’t be normal, everyday things for kids. I’d poke at my stomach and just believe that something was wrong with me. I knew I wasn’t “fat,” but I felt as though I didn’t look as perfect as the other girls did. I didn’t have a flat stomach or a thigh gap, but I was so close to the ideal body shape I was striving for. Even now, I look at pictures of myself from that time, and I wince. I see the way my shirts hug my body too tightly. It’s not flattering at all.

When I was in 6th grade, sometime after winter break, I started wearing this same blue sweatshirt from Aeropostale every damn day. It’s not like it was my only sweatshirt or the only thing that could keep me warm in the colder months. I don’t even particularly remember liking it more than my other clothes. But for some reason, every day I threw it on over my outfit. Maybe I saw it as my “invisible shield.” Maybe if the girls and boys at school wouldn’t have to notice my outfits changing everyday, they wouldn’t be noticing what’s underneath either.

Other than my own personal insecurities, who are young girls to poke at each other? Once, when I was 12, a girl told me I should consider doing a specific workout class, because it might help me lose some stomach fat. It stings to think about to this day, but are her words a reflection of me or of her? Were her words actually just a mirror of her thoughts on her own body?

A couple of years after my insecurity began, I would try skipping meals. I’d give my turkey sandwich to a friend and a bag of chips to another, or if no one wanted it, I’d just throw it away. Sometimes I’d try to eat it, but I would just feel so guilty for eating. Other times, I’d just sneak it back in the fridge or pantry, hoping my mom wouldn’t notice our food supply wasn’t decreasing as much as it should be.

I wasn’t good at skipping meals, though. If I could manage to skip lunch, I’d just end up binging as soon as I got home. I mean, I was starving. It wasn’t easy to just get rid of it. Anything I could find, I would just not want to stop. Oreos, chips, cheese—anything that was easily accessible. I just couldn’t stop. I couldn’t stop so much to the point that I’d make myself sick.

That’s when I learned about “binge and purge.” To this day, I hate to say the word “bulimia.” There’s something about the way it sounds that makes my skin crawl. Of course, it means binging and purging, but there’s something about not saying “bulimia” that potentially hides how truly serious and dangerous this became for me. I hate admitting that this was me, but it was.

Before moving forward, let me say that this does not work, and is extremely unhealthy. Not to mention, I felt disgusting because of it. At the time, I was lost, and the best thing I could do was admit my insecurity and that I needed help. Opening up to others and owning the fact that I needed some guidance to get on the right track was honorable, not weak.

I won’t lie. There are still times here and there that I’ll force myself to throw up. I think the last time I can really recall purging was right around my birthday last year. I was overeating (because who isn’t on their birthday?), and I got overwhelmingly nauseous. I excused myself, purged, and rejoined the party as if nothing happened. There will be times here and there that I’ll go out to eat and do the same thing. It’s not that I plan on it, but it’s something that seems to stick with me forever. It may seem as if I’m “better” now, but binge and purge damaged me for life. My gut reaction to overeating is, “you can make this all go away,” when truly, it’s about listening to my body and knowing when I need to stop eating, and not allowing myself to get to that point in the first place.

There are long term effects of bulimia. It’s not just a mental issue of self-esteem and body image, but can lead to a physical one too. It’s not healthy to purge. Your stomach acids can burn on your throat. Along with that, there can be issues with digestion such as constipation or diarrhea. Sometimes even heartburn, kidney issues, and more can stem from bulimia.

No matter what your body shape is, you’re not alone with the insecurities you may feel with your body. Everyone talks about how important “self-love” is, but loving yourself and everything that comes with it is not as easy as social media moguls make it seem. While it is difficult, sometimes the hope you need to move forward is knowing that you’re not alone, and if you ever forget that, come back to this article. Every day isn’t a perfect day for me, but I’ll keep moving forward and gaining confidence each and every day. You can, too.