I once read a novel about an anorexic girl. This novel wasn't promoting anorexia, of course, far from it; a once-healthy, happy protagonist gets the idea in her head that she's fat, so she starves herself almost to death and develops serious health and psychological problems.
I was thirteen or so at the time, and I thought anorexia sounded great. You get to be skinny and you get to be a tragic figure at the same time. Win, win, I thought to myself. I'm going to try anorexia.
There was something satisfyingly self-injurious about it, too, a way to express all that teenage hurt and angst.
I'll show them all! Those mean girls will be so sorry they dissed me! I'll fade into nothing. They'll be crying and apologizing to me on my death bed!
Yes, I would be anorexic. It would be glorious. My stomach was growling already. I'd probably lost five pounds just thinking about it.
Then, it was dinnertime.
I went into the dining room and thought, I'll just pick at my food.
But I'd worked up such an appetite being anorexic that I devoured everything.
So I gave up on anorexia and opted for Typical American Girl, slightly heavier than she wants to be, picking and pulling self-consciously at her clothes.
I got older and became comfortable with that discomfort; I tried a diet here or there but mostly didn't bother.
Then I had some babies and put on some weight. (It wasn't my fault; it was the babies inside me saying they wanted very particular kinds of food and certain amounts of it.)
I was so busy taking care of my family that I didn't have time to worry about my weight, till that one time some evil genie put a bathroom scale in my thrift store.
I don't know what possessed me to step on it; I knew it wouldn't be good. But I stepped on it, right there in the middle of the thrift store, with my shoes on, (probably a heavy sweater on too) just having eaten and drunk a bunch of water and coffee (which is totally unfair).
The number was shocking, devastating. I'd never seen such a high number on a scale (except, of course, when I was pregnant). I had to do something. Thankfully, there was a postpartum exercise DVD for sale at the thrift store and a book about how sugar is bad for you, so I bought them both and felt a little better.
Later that night, I prayed about it. I asked God to give me wisdom and direction and to tell me what kind of diet I should follow to shed those pounds.
As I prayed, an unexpected idea came to my mind: the idea that I need to accept myself.
* * *
This was not what I wanted to do. I wanted to lose that awful weight. I couldn't—literally couldn't—accept myself. I didn't even know what it meant: Did it mean I had to like the number on the scale? Did it mean I would never lose the weight, and that I shouldn't even try?
Maybe it meant that I needed to accept myself, and then—somehow--I would magically lose the weight.
That was about four years ago. I've gone back and forth between dieting and accepting myself (but never both at the same time). I tried Weight Watchers for awhile; I found a handy little Weight Watchers gadget that calculates the points for you. I ended up gaining two or three pounds on Weight Watchers (how does that happen??), so I gave up on that.
I tried accepting myself some more.
Then I tried intermittent fasting, which made me irritable, so I gave up on that.
Next, I tried a low carb diet for a few days. It made me feel gross and unnatural, so I nixed that.
Finally, I tried just counting calories, which made me obsess over calories and the numbers on the scale and it was highly frustrating and completely ineffective.
The only effective weight loss tool I've found is a good strong case of Covid. (But this is not sustainable.)
Finally, I gave up on dieting and accepted that I'm terrible at dieting, that I hate dieting, and that I hate being hungry (unless I'm fasting for a spiritual purpose, which is something completely different).
(Hmm...maybe accepting that one is terrible at dieting is the first step to accepting oneself?)
I'm writing this at the beginning of February. Many of you have given up on your diet and workout and you're either beating yourself up for it, or settling for status quo.
I'm right there with you, so I don't have much wisdom to offer.
But I do have a few things I'd like to share.
An unhealthy obsession with beauty or thinness turns us into caricatures of that quality we are striving desperately to attain. At times, this has disastrous results. (Look at the tragic outcomes of certain plastic surgery procedures, for instance.)
I knew a 90-something year old Christian saint who used to say “you outgrow more sins than you overcome.” I wonder if this is happening for me. I'm outgrowing the need to see a certain number on the scale in order to feel good about myself. Instead, I am thinking about things like exercise and eating better so that I can have more energy and better cardiovascular health, etc.
I read an amazing book called The Weight of Grace about a woman who overcame binge eating with the help of the Holy Spirit and intuitive eating. I recommend this book for anyone who has a disordered body image or relationship with food. Basically, intuitive eating is learning to eat when you're hungry and to stop eating when you're satisfied. (Imagine that!)
I think that the reason diets don't work most of the time is that they're unsustainable in the long-term. I've decided that, if I make any changes in my diet/exercise routines, they're going to be for the sake of my overall health, and they're going to be long-term, sustainable habit changes.
I think that exercise is one of the best things a person can do for himself or herself, even if it doesn’t move the needle on the scale. A single one-hour walk, for instance, can add six hours to your life expectancy.
I have come to believe that self-acceptance is foundational, whether you gain weight, lose weight, or stay the same. We need to renew our minds in this area. If we strive to lose weight, it shouldn't be to earn dignity, or love, or attention. Those of us who call ourselves Christians need to know that we are already loved, that we already have dignity, and that we already have our Father's attention, even in our unperfected state.
Great article. The struggle is real. I’m 70 and think about my weight at some point everyday.