Truth: I weigh 125 pounds.
(Even as I read that sentence, the Wintergirl part of me knocks on my brain, begging to be let back in, to delete the words before I publish them for them to be archived in the internet forever.)
The harder truth to admit: I will probably only gain more weight as I continue to work out.
(At this, my Wintergirl is shouting at the top of her lungs for me not to cravenly admit such a human weakness for the entire online community to read about.)
My journey from the freedom of my eating disorder takes ups and downs. One up was when I was introduced to lifting free-weights almost a year ago. I began to shape up, squat heavy, consume lots of oats and eggs. Then, even though I cited other excuses as why to quit, I stopped because I began to gain weight. This terrified me.
You see, it’s impossible to be a stick figure when squatting your bodyweight and a half.
All my life I wanted to be a stick figure, waif, bone-creature. Whenever I got my wish, I realized that all that was there in that journey was the desire to keep going. What was going to be next? 80 pounds? Having an eating disorder can be seen in a game of limbo: How low can you go? will always be the question of the day.
Now, I’m back on the upward climb. I’m going to stay here this time. Lifting weights has yielded a confident me, much more than the sack of tied together skin that I was when I was at my worst. However, bulking up is difficult for me, not physically but mentally. I consume so much food during the day to support my muscular gains and it’s sometimes hard to not go back to beating myself up for it.
One thing that reassures me though is the text of a Nike ad that I read once. It said “You are entirely up to you. Make your body. Make your life. Make yourself.”
What’s one way you made yourself today?