Baby Steps for Big Girls

I’ve always felt right in the middle. Not rich, not poor. Not fat, not skinny. I have been the median in the math equation of my life for awhile now. But, now that my weight is clinically not considered to be in the middle (a.k.a. obese), I want nothing more than to be comfortably back in that middle.

Its funny that I have an issue with my weight or even food in general given I was such a picky eater as a kid. We’re talking, bringing-lunchboxes-to-restaurants-level picky. There are still so many foods I haven’t even tried yet - hamburgers, cheesecake, ketchup, but thats its own post.

With time, I started expanding my palette - manipulating things that normally would have freaked me out into variations of things I found comfort in. I only got myself to try chicken tikka masala because I convinced myself they were chicken nuggets in marinara sauce, and now I get paneer (ooh bold) tikka masala every other week. Don’t forget my garlic naan and mango lassi too!

I wasn’t genuinely curious to try foods outside of my realm at first, but I love socializing. I love those moments that feel like an Olive Garden commercial, the laughing, the camaraderie, the endless breadsticks. My friends weren’t picky and we lived in New York City, with some of the best restaurants in the world. This was not going to be the crowd to accompany me to Burger King, and rightfully so.

Coercing myself into trying foods changed my life - I will forever be grateful for those friends, for those experiences and to myself for being brave enough to eat outside my box. Believe it or not, I consider myself a foodie now (sorry, I had to), and those who met me after that revelation would never have guessed I wasn’t otherwise. Just trying these things were a baby step in the right direction, even if it was as silly as dipping a fry in aioli. Who the hell saw it coming from the girl that brought lunchboxes to restaurants though?

Lets now combine that newfound curiosity with a dangerous little habit I’ve always had - emotional eating. Food is a really multifunctional tool if you think about it. Stressed out? Have some mozzarella sticks. Bored from working on the same spreadsheet for an hour? Go get some ice cream. Sad from FOMO? Order some lo mein. Food fills so many voids for me and as much as I appreciate a multi-use item, this one is almost too good at its job. I’ve always envied those who don’t eat when they’re stressed or “forget” to eat. Are you kidding me? I will literally type with one hand and stuff a sushi roll into my mouth with the other, I will find a way. So not only am I eating, I end up overeating.

Just like my appetite, I’m never satisfied.

Fast forward and these consequences have actions. Isn’t that awful? Now, I long to be in the middle. Not fat, not skinny. In complete honesty, I don’t really recognize myself from a physical standpoint nowadays. If I trick my mind into thinking I look one way, a photo drags me back down to reality. This weight gain, only further expedited by the lockdown, has had a greater impact on me than I ever anticipated. I don’t have a strong desire to take photos anymore, I don’t look forward to shopping for clothes the way I used to and I’m self-conscious when I eat in front of others. Don’t eat too much, they’ll then see how you got fat. Don’t order a salad because then they’ll think you’re on a diet trying to be less fat. You literally can’t win.

Social media has only complicated these feelings. One video shows a radiant woman grabbing her belly, telling herself (and me, I suppose) that she is perfect the way she is. That video is one TikTok swipe away from a recipe on how to make a fat-burning salad. I have not mastered this delicate dance between self-hatred and self-love, but do feel on some level that they’re mutually exclusive. If you have to convince yourself and others that you love your body, isn’t it likely because you inherently dislike it?

I am still in the midst of figuring out what the right answer is, but Iet’s start with what I do know. I know I am blessed to be able-bodied, I am grateful that I can buy new clothes as my body fluctuates with me and I know I have to be kind to myself, since last time I checked, I can’t trade it in for a better model. Trust me, I’ve tried.

If you resonate with this, my heart is with you. What can start out as a vain complaint can quickly evolve into a deeply unsettling and overwhelming sensation; a dagger to ones self-confidence and self-perceived value. I am trying every single day to navigate these feelings and not let them trick me into thinking I’m less than. You can try with me, I love the company, or not, I’m not here to judge you, you likely do that already enough for the both of us.

I am not a very go hard or go home kind of gal, but I do believe in baby steps and the power they posess to take us to what we ultimately want. Whether that be radical self-acceptance or the power to master mindful eating. All we can do is point our feet in the metaphorical right direction and move, regardless of the pace. I also could be totally wrong, but I’ll keep you posted. Worst case, we’ll know that route doesn’t work and we’ll just start over with a new strategy - no big deal! Cheers to trying at all, getting it right is just a bonus.