The story of how this body came to be
TW for descriptions of disordered eating.
I was born, apparently large and lazy – 10 days late and still not coming so I ended up a C-Section because of that and my very large head. When I was born – the treasured first child smiling and fair – this body was loved. It stayed loved for a long time 12 or 13 years perhaps. It had been through puberty and was now navigating high school and this is when the fear began. The fear that this body might be found wanting, by family, by friends, by boys. The fear was fueled by casual comments, by the merciless mocking of others as this body sat silent – terrified of becoming the next target, by the pictures in the magazines, by the people on TV. The fear became an ever present companion. The body began to examine itself, critically, checking to make sure it was compliant. That there was not too much of it. Despite the fear the body was ok for another few years until it began to betray itself. There were many things going on at this time, the person inhabiting this body became an emotional wreck and blamed it on the body. If only this body could be smaller then everything would be ok. So the torture began.
It started off innocently enough. In the interests of health improvement pies and other foods considered damaging were no longer allowed to be consumed by this body. Soon it was only allowed to consume fruit and water. Soon just water and tea except for weekends. As the body shrunk it got many compliments, but it was tired and it was stressed. It could not maintain this forever. So a cycle was struck. Binge starve binge starve. Whenever the body started to grow bigger people would make comments about it triggering the starve part of the cycle all over again.
Luckily, just by chance, the girl that lived in this body found Shapely Prose. It started a long and painful journey which included a few events that are just too painful to talk about. The upshot was that this body grew. Slowly and then more quickly – as habits and economic status changed. As it grew so did acceptance although it was shaky and difficult to come by at first.
So now this body is what it is. Bigger than it used to be. With more stretchmarks than it used to have. Stronger and more vibrant than ever before. Finally there is no division between this body and the woman who lives in it.
I am just me.
Sometimes I feel sadness for the divided girl that I was and wonder what I could have achieved, what I could have been, had I not been so. Mostly I am just glad that I am not anymore.