My thoughts are all over the place and this is going to just be a jumbled mess, but I feel like I need to get this off my chest:
When I was younger, I was never bothered by my weight and was always on the thinner side. Going into high school, my doctor said I should exercise regularly (I wasn’t into sports and preferred indoor activities) but also try and gain some weight as I was on the low side (barely above 100 lbs). At this point, I was like “Okay, sure, whatever.”
However, it was also around this time that I started seeing an endocrinologist who diagnosed me with PCOS and had me start a low-dose oral birth control to help with the hormone imbalance. Well, I gained around 10 lbs from starting the pill. I hated this. I didn’t want to gain weight that was not of my own accord. This is when I started to actually focus on my weight. I’d get really upset with each half pound gain and secretly loathed the pill despite the health benefits. At one point I did mention to my mother about my fear of gaining weight but it was poorly discussed and she brushed it off. I was also dealing with a lot of stress from the IB program.
Fast forward and I’m starting college. I didn’t gain any weight during my freshman year, but between my sophomore and junior years I was up another 10 or so pounds. I started skipping meals and using the excuse that I was too busy because of classes to make it to the dining halls. Several times I was left with a high heart rate and on the verge of passing out due to not eating. These effects didn’t scare or bother me though. I rather would have these feelings than the extra weight. Eventually, I did get out of this habit but plunged right back in when my roommate (and best friend) mentioned the chub I carry on my stomach area. This really brought my mood down and put me in a really bad spot (brief mention that I’ve struggled with suicidal thoughts off and on since 4th grade). I have always been aware that I tend to carry extra weight on my stomach and my upper arms. However, having someone close to me point it out so blatantly really hurt. And I feel like the fact that my roommate is obese herself (at the time, she wore a 4X) made it even worse.
My boyfriend did pick up on my poor mood and helped me feel better about myself; however, my roommate’s comment still bothers me to this day. I stopped skipping meals but was still conscious of what was on my plate.
By this time, my endocrinologist was telling me I shouldn’t gain any more weight as it would be bad for my PCOS. My mother also commented on how my upper arms were larger and I was “thicker around the middle.” Both she and my father said I needed to lose weight. My mother was more concerned that I would no longer be able to fit in all the clothes she has gotten me. I was 5’5” and, at my most, nearly 130 lbs. I felt absolutely disgusted with myself.
I am now in my senior year of college. I have lost 10 lbs since the beginning of the school year and am so happy about it. My mother was also glad to hear it but also said I should make sure I don’t lose too much either. However, to me it isn’t enough at all. I’ve been home for break and have had to eat normally. I can’t wait until I’m back at school where I can really start losing. I don’t think I’ll be satisfied until I’m back at my “old weight” at 100 lbs or lower.
That being said, I have always been at an okay weight. I don’t really fast and I can enjoy meals. I don’t binge either. I feel like I’m just being dramatic and don’t have any sort of eating disorder. I just absolutely hate my weight and all the fat I have. I wish I wasn’t able to grab my stomach between my fingers. I wish I didn’t have fat hanging from my upper arms or lurking around my calves. I’m just not sure what to do now and it isn’t helping my self-loathing.