BY: MARISSA ROY, CONTRIBUTOR
First of all, let’s be honest – I am no expert. The only thing I could possibly claim expertise for is being way too hard on myself. I am not an expert at navigating life, I am not an expert at work, and I am not an expert at surviving NYC. All I can offer you here is what I have learned over the past ten years - ten years that have left indelible ink on my soul and unforgettable emotions on my heart. Although my past has made me who I am today, shaping me and making me strong, I do not wish my experience on any woman. Unfortunately, I fear it is all too common amongst us these days.
I have no idea exactly when I started looking at myself and
thinking I was fat. Actually, I eventually got to a point where I didn’t even
need to look at myself to think I was fat; I just felt fat all the time, as it was so deeply ingrained in my mind. I
began my freshman year at the University of Georgia like so many other
18-year-old women do – rushing a sorority, decorating my dorm room, rearranging
my schedule. Going to UGA was going to change my life – I just knew it! I’d meet new friends, have a boyfriend, go to football games and find my path. Going to UGA
did change my life. Although I can now look back fondly on my time there, I
know that it was also strewn with hurt, pain, hopelessness and fear…and those
feelings were rooted in my own self image.
If you’ve never been down South, you may not relate to me at
all. You wouldn’t know that beautiful, thin, blonde girls rule the land, and let me tell you, they are EVERYWHERE. I quickly found that my 5’8” swimmer's build did not fit in
down in Athens, Georgia. To this day I remember that shitty fraternity guy who
walked by me as I wore 3 inch platform sandals (oh why??) and muttered “that
girl is HUGE!”. I mean, what?? I knew I wasn’t huge! I knew I was fit and
athletic (with a pension for the new pizza buffet at the dining hall maybe), but I was
huge now…was I??
His words began to eat at me as I looked around campus, focusing only on those sorority girls I didn’t fit in with. I started reading Self, Fitness, Women’s Health, magazines
I didn’t even pay attention to in high school. I went to the gym every day. I
ate broccoli and chicken breasts for dinner. Every. Night. I remember going to
bed with my stomach growling but not doing anything about it. I remember
sitting in the hallway of my dorm crying my eyes out to my best friend because I had
eaten a cookie at dinner and regretted it with every inch of my being. It seemed that overnight I had become obsessed with what I ate, when I ate, how much I ate and, even
worse, what everyone else was eating as well.
By the summer after my freshman year I had stopped having a
period. I’d lost 10-15 pounds. I'd caught the eye of a hot, older fraternity
guy. A guy “friend” told me I was "looking good lately". All of these things made me
think skinny = accepted.
That summer I found myself counting out the number of mints
I’d eat at my hostess job. I felt guilty for having five after realizing that they
had calories in them. I looked at everything for calorie counts. I was a nightmare
to go out to eat with, scraping off any mayo, cheese or salad dressing that
doused my plate. Sadly, this first year was just the start.
As my years at UGA went by, I continued to lose weight and
became freakishly annoying about meals. I’d eat lettuce and tuna for dinner.
I’d claim I wasn't feeling well when roommates wanted to go out to eat because I knew I would
feel intense guilt for days after indulging in pizza or pasta. I even dated a guy
who knew exactly how many calories were in a can of black beans – REAL healthy
relationship. I talked about weight, thought about it, couldn’t let go of it.
It ruined hours, days and weeks for me. God forbid I actually enjoy some bread and
butter out with my family – nope! guilt, blame and fear would follow.
I cannot blame college, however, because unfortunately this behavior continued on
throughout my early 20s after graduation and into my post-college life in Atlanta. I
couldn’t enjoy eating ice cream on a date because the next day I would beat
myself up. ICE CREAM! I would go into the bathroom at work and lift up my shirt
to make sure my stomach was still flat. I would cheer myself on while shopping for being able to fit into a size 2 or size 4. Ribs and hip bones that stuck out
were signs of strength and fitness. 5:30am wake up calls to get to the gym were
regular, although I hated it and dreaded it.
You know the worst part? These behavior patterns turned me into a person that I really didn't like. I was so caught up in ME that I couldn’t pour into those
around me. It was always about how I looked, how I fit in, how I was seen
through the eyes of others. I was miserable on the inside, and no matter how I
looked on the outside, it would continue. Being skinny did not equal acceptance
of myself.
The funny thing was, I thought I was healthy…boy, was I wrong!
Summer of 2010 I took a new job, a job I never should have accepted, but at that time, I felt it was the best move for me. That job was
the beginning of a deep, dark spiral to rock bottom. I was exhausted all the time but couldn't sleep. I was anxious all day and unable
to concentrate on work. I didn’t find joy in normal activities. I didn’t want
to be around ANYONE. Scared, I went to my doctor, who drew a lot of blood and
ran a bunch of tests. The results, in laymans terms... I had NO hormones running
through me, my iron levels were cancer-like low and my nutrients were nil. In
short – I was the picture of sick. Not only was my body sick, but my mind was also. I sank into a deep, deep depression. I saw no use in moving forward because the future looked nothing short of bleak. I found myself wishing I would get into a horrible car
accident because I just wanted a break – a break from life. I was so far gone
that my mom feared for my life. She’d sit on the phone with me for hours every day while I cried and said my life was over. She promised me that I was
stronger than I knew - that I would get through this and that we would go
somewhere amazing when I did.
If I’m honest with myself, this need for 'a break' was a long
time in the making. I was tired of trying to be someone I was not. In fact, I was plain exhausted with trying to keep up the appearance of being happy, thin and accepted.
At this point, I started making decisions for my best interest. I quit my unhealthy job (step one...check!). Next I went on medication to heal myself from the inside (step two...check!).
Finally, I took a job at Whole Foods (step three...check!). That was mid-October.
By mid-November, it was like life had completely turned around. I was
happy. REALLY happy. I know the other side. I’ve lived the other side. That
November my mom came into town to celebrate my 26th birthday. We
went to dinner, had champagne and she gave me the gift of a lifetime – two
first class tickets to Italy. We were going to Tuscany to bike through the beautiful countryside for six days and seven nights. THIS was proof that I had made
it. I had been strong enough to bring myself back to life.
Over the next year I found this life. I gained weight. I
ate. I got back to exercising, not because I wanted to lose weight but because
it made me happy. I ran a half marathon with a good friend, and then
celebrated with wine and cheese. I visited my best friend, Alex, in Colorado, and we went hiking through the Rockies. I got a dream job at Southern Living
magazine. And, in September, I went to Italy with my mom.
We ate, drank and biked our way through Tuscany with a group
of 12 other divine people. Not a morsel went into my mouth that made me feel
guilty. Not a pedal stroke was taken without thinking: 'If this was four years
ago, I would've NEVER been able to do this'. I have never felt so close to God
as I felt on those dark days…until I was speeding through the hills of Tuscany.
He was there, telling me, you DESERVE THIS! You deserve true happiness. You
deserve a life not bound by the counting of calories and the guilt of
indulgence.
Today, I don’t know why but that guilty feeling is totally
gone. Sure, maybe I shouldn’t eat that burger and fries ...AND milkshake, but you
know what? I’m DONE with denying myself a full life. I spent so much time (WASTED so much time) worrying that if I wasn’t skinny, I wasn’t good enough.
Reading that now just makes me shake my head. Today, I know that who I am is NOT
what I eat. Who I am is what I enjoy, who I spend time with and how I treat
myself. I cannot wait to take another trip like that one to Italy. It was a
cleansing of the mind and the heart…and food for the soul - the wonderful, cheesy, Italian kind.
It's my hope that my daughter will never feel anything less than
perfectly accepted by this world. It's my hope that she will never question how
thin she is and how society perceives her.
Acceptance and healing begin when you realize you are worth so much more than the worry, fear and insecurity
you choose to carry around. True beauty comes from within. I'm so glad I finally believe that now.
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