We all have a life long changing relationship with food. As a child, I was a fussy eater. For a while my staple diet consisted of Nutella sandwiches and grilled cheese. My parents battled with me at the dinner table for hours every night as I attempted to conceal food in napkins and feed the dog under the table. I loved eating but had a very limited palette. My mum eventually tailored meals to my taste when she discovered I’d eat certain raw vegetables.
Obsession with “health” in adolescence
I began taking Food and Textiles Technology classes in 8th grade. With a natural tendency towards self improvement, I took a keen interest in learning about nutrition. I studied the food and dietary guidelines carefully and dedicated time each night to preparing a lunch consisting of each recommended food group. As a teenager, I longed for the independence of adulthood and relished the opportunity to have control over some aspect of my life.
I remember being at a sleepover when one friend pinched her thighs and complained they were too fat. She was very slim and I suddenly felt painfully self conscious. We gushed compliments but she refuted all attempts to reason. Someone had the idea to weigh ourselves. It makes me cringe to admit now but I felt so smugly proud after stepping on that scale. I was the shortest of the group and ended up having the lowest weight. I often struggled with fitting in to the group. I didn’t always relate to their conversations and I felt inferior, but in that moment I felt worthy.
I started weighing myself every day, sometimes multiple times a day. Irrespective of the kind of day I’d had, watching the numbers go down filled me with a sense of achievement. My Mum always preached balance and was not supportive of fad diets. I instinctively hid the dangerous habits I was developing. Initially, I used an app to take photos of everything I’d eaten in an attempt to hold myself accountable. I started recording calories and limiting my daily intake. The challenge of continually lowering the amount I’d consume excited me. I lied and made excuses whenever questions were asked. I refused to listen to anyone’s concerns. I refused to listen to my own body. My body was unrelenting and responded to the starvation by driving me to regular binges. The post-binge shame and guilt was unbearable. I would find myself in a dark heap on the kitchen floor at midnight after having consumed days worth of food in one go. I didn’t understand what I was experiencing and I certainly didn’t talk about it. The illusion of control was shattered and I was drowning in self hatred. My obsession with weight and calories had robbed me of so much joy. I felt deeply lonely and constantly anxious.
Undiagnosed allergy & fear of food
As I faced the truth of my downward spiral, I decided to recommit to healthy eating. I intended to bring more balance and variety back into my diet. When I learned to start paying attention to my body’s signals again, I noticed ongoing stomach pain. I attributed the pain to having overeaten or eaten unhealthily which again riddled me with guilt. I would attempt to compensate with ab exercises until the pain lessened. As I continued tracking my diet and the pain, I couldn’t figure out why it was happening. I was confused and frustrated. I decided I mustn’t be able to tolerate lactose and tried cutting out dairy. When the pain continued, I resorted to developing a list of safe foods. Eventually, the list of “approved foods” was whittled down to just green tea, fruit and eggs. I was terrified of eating anything else. The offer of a biscuit sent me into a panic. I avoided social gatherings, continued withdrawing from my relationships and dwelled in depression for years. My parents believed it was normal teenage moodiness and tried desperately to connect with me as I shifted between flat numbness and angry defensiveness.
I started reflecting on the influences and pressures shaping my mindset. I made the decision to face the aloneness head on rather than continue subjecting myself to the shallow, gossipy and unsupportive friendship group I was in. The aloneness was much less lonely. The aloneness was peaceful. When I wasn’t in class, I sought a quiet reading space and filled my mind with new ideas and information.
Sustainable, self-love mindset
I questioned the assumptions that were driving my behaviour and confronted my fears. I came to the conclusion that I would be far happier surrendering the unhealthy coping mechanisms I’d come to rely on and accepting the possibility of gaining weight. I had nothing to lose and so much more than just weight to gain. I wanted my freedom back. I wanted to experience life again.
I’ve spent the last 6 years learning to listen to and honour my body. Today, my relationship with food is open and flexible. My priority is being kind to myself.
Milk is full of calcium. Avocados have important fats. Spinach is a great contrast to strong flavours in a meal. Bread (gluten free – undiagnosed allergy was wheat) keeps me full. Chocolate brings me joy. Pizza is delicious. Every food is allowed. Every food has a purpose. Some food is for nutrition and some food is for fun. I have no set rules anymore. Over time, my hunger signals have returned to normal and I tune in to how my body is feeling. I stop when I’ve had enough, knowing I can always have more at any time. No food is ever off limits. I want to consume nutrition that will energise me for all the places I want to go and things I want to do.
I exercise for clarity, muscle tone and mobility. If I can’t exercise for a few weeks, I don’t sweat it. I know the time will come. I fit movement in to my routine where I can and when it feels right.
When I look in the mirror, I feel truly proud, not just of how I look but because of how I think and how I treat myself. Beyond beauty, I have, and every person has, inherent worth and value that is not diminished by our comparison to others or our changing or ageing bodies.