This came up in both my memories and my sister’s. We talked about it, you know, haha weren’t we cute. Then she said something that surprised me. She said that my arms look so skinny that I look so small.
I am 15 here and 132lbs. How do I know that? The 132lbs part? Because I thought I was so fucking fat. Honestly, I can tell you how much I weigh in damn near any picture of me. I’m more likely to know my weight than my age. I have never been comfortable in my skin unless I weighed between 110 and 122(preferably not over 118).
I am currently obese. There are no pictures of me because I can not stand to look at myself. Not only am I overweight but I have severe diastasis recti, my abdominal muscles are separated, deformed and I look very pregnant. I have an understanding of why my body is the way it is currently. The diastasis recti was caused by a lack of energy, my body is unable to convert food into energy in the way that a body is meant to combined with a C-section that caused the muscle to be unable to move and kept them in their separated position. My body overcompensated to get my son here healthily. I am incredibly grateful for this.
Many people who suffer from mold illness gain a lot of weight and are unable to shed it. I forget the technicalities of what is happening in the body (though I can find articles that explain it). Mycotoxins store themselves in fatty tissue and the body basically convinces itself that it is starving to death in order to gain fat and prevent the mycotoxins from storing in the brain causing brain damage (this is why liposuction is a legit detox treatment for some people with mold illness). I am also grateful for this as well. There is no good reason that I was able to get my son here healthily or that I am even still alive except that my body is amazing and it did what it needed to in order to protect me and Eli. Miraculous. Yet, knowing this I still cannot stand to look at myself and going in public is hard. I’m filled with shame.
I am 15 in this picture and about to start dating the boy, who became the man, who is now my ex husband. The boy who referred to my stomach as squishy…pudgey.
I am 15 here and I’ve already lived through years of my mother hovering over me while I ate, making comments about how I didn’t want to end up fat like her.
I am 15 here and about a year away from anorexia and decades of disordered eating.
I am 15 here and 132lbs
I am 15 and my worth was not, is not, will never be determined by my weight or body shape…
But I didn’t know that.
We need to do better.