Dysfunctional is my middle name. Oops. Sorry ’bout it. It’s just how I roll.
Case in point, I’m really hungover as I finish up this blog. We had a family friend’s wedding last night, and I wasn’t hungry so I didn’t eat much dinner, and no breakfast or lunch before that… then drank a bottle of wine, took a shot of tequila, and snagged a bottle of champagne. It was a recipe for disaster and I’m feeling it. So, sorry for the typos and poor syntax. Bear with me. As you read you can picture this:
But, back to the topic at hand: me and dysfunction. The particular dysfunctional relationship I’m talking about today is one that started so long ago I couldn’t even tell you our anniversary, but I do know we were introduced by my parents and family. This relationship has been a dysfunctional, volatile, and often times dark, battle. Yikes.
Care to read on? Or are you thinking of just exiting now, this seems like an expensive issue for my therapist?
Spoiler alert, it’s my relationship with food and body image, and we’re a work in progress.
Weight, diet, looks, and food were always a big part of conversation growing up. Whether it was commenting on how others looked, how each other looked, or how they looked themselves… It was like word vomit, and woven into daily life. It wasn’t always negative, but that’s what soaked in. I took these comments and applied them to myself and how I looked. You throw being a perfectionist into this mix and you’ve got the perfect storm. If you were to tap into my head you’d hear a lot of:
“Diet starts Monday.”
“Okay. So, no sweets, carbs, soda, junk food.”
“Shakes for breakfast and lunch. Small dinner. Need to exercise at least once, twice a day if I can manage. ”
“Shoot, well I ate that donut on my breakfast date with Jared, I guess I might as well say screw my DIET. Cheat day in full effect.”
“I have that event this weekend, all well, I guess I’ll just eat what I want and get back on track Monday.”
“If I can’t be 100% perfect with my eating and exercise, then I might as well eat whatever I want.”
“I look like such a fat ass. I don’t even want to go.”
“But they’re so skinny, I feel like such a hippo going to those family functions and holidays.”
The list goes on, and if you’re one of my close friends, you’ve heard me verbalize these a million times. There have been countless ugly-cry, feel bad for myself moments.
Why?
Why does it matter that I’m not a size 2?
Why does it matter other people are?
It all circles back to mindset. In the past few years, and months more specifically, I’ve been trying to do a little relationship counseling with myself. I’ve had to come to terms with the fact that I’m not built like anyone else and I’m not a size 2, and that’s okay. What matters is whether I’m healthy and active. Ultimately I’m the one missing out when I let my insecurities take over, and worrying/comparing is a complete misuse of energy and time. I’ve had to recognize that no one who matters, is judging me or picking apart what I look like.
Quite frankly, life is funny. More often than not we’re our toughest critic and are the Simon Cowell to our American Idol performance. I had my ah-ha moment at a wedding with some of my beautiful, size 0, high school besties. I mentioned that I was always so jealous of their petite, little, adorable figures. They retorted with: we were always envious of your strong legs. Wait, what? My most insecure body part you liked? Your supermodel-size self thought anything about my lard ass looked good? Hmm, no pun intended, but, food for thought.
Sometimes we need those reality checks. A little boost of confidence to help right our mindset and put things into perspective. As with any relationship that is a work in progress, it can feel like I take one step forward and two steps back. Learning to be confident and not let my insecurities take over is hard. I’m thankful to have a solid group of friends who help calm my worries, and for Jared who never says anything other than I look beautiful.
I know my insecurities will always be there, but I’m learning that the less life I give them, the less I’ll be reminded of them. I want to enjoy events, time with friends, and holidays without being so worried about how I look or “going off the rails” with food. I’m learning life isn’t so black and white, and that it’s about balance. There’s room for a sweet treat or a bag of Funyuns without feeling “bad” about it. At the end of the day it doesn’t matter what size I am, or whether I’ve got a squishier stomach than someone else, but whether I’m healthy. I want to fuel my body so I can remain active and spend time doing things I love, but I don’t want to lose sight of eating as a way of enjoying life, too. Sure, there’s a world of compare-ers out there and it’s easy to become one with social media, but there’s a bigger tribe of live-and-let-live, be-happy-and-healthy, people out there. We all have our insecurities but we get to choose how we manage and overcome them.
This relationship will probably always need some counseling, but I’m choosing to be happy, and to love and enjoy food. Refocusing on being healthy and not on size or what others think.
Cheers, and now to recover from this hangover…
Beer in a Martini World 