My Body Acceptance Journey
When I was around 10 or 11 years old, my classmates and I had to write mini profiles about ourselves, to be posted on the board in the back of the class. Innocuous assignment, gave it no thought, and honestly answered each question. They were basic questions, including height and weight, and I filled each out without a second thought. I was 168cm and 58kg.
Once all of them were up, I read the other profiles. Specifically, my 3 best female friends. We all had a similar body type and the three of us were about the same height, though one was a couple of inches shorter than the rest of us. Looking at us, we should be around the same weight. I had no concept of what I was about to read. Each of them had put a 4 in front of their weight. 49kg. 48kg.
On paper, compared to them, I was huge. I felt huge. But in reality, and in retrospect, we were almost identical. I spent the entire rest of the week sneaking to the back of the classroom, lowering my weight. I was too scared to go down to the 4s, in case anyone saw and remembered, but I got close, ending at 51kg. It seemed I was the last person to know that a woman was supposed to lie about her weight. I didn’t have the knowledge to process anything but shame at that time but it was a formative moment in my relationship with my body, weight, and what’s expected of women in relation to them.
The style back then was baggy clothes but after that it also became a sort of body armor, protecting me from the gaze of those around me. They couldn’t tell my weight if they couldn’t see my body. In reality, my body was healthy and strong. It was perfectly proportioned for my height, I had a healthy relationship with food and I naturally moved a lot. I didn’t know this at that time though.
I felt the largest of my friends, even though I wasn’t. I still remember a distinct moment when two male friends came looking for one of our other friends. I was wearing regular jeans instead of baggy ones and a regular shirt since I was at home, not the overly baggy hoody I usually added when I went outside. They were visibly, and audibly, surprised by what they saw. I felt proud in that moment.
Looking back, I am not sure proud is what I should have been feeling when ultimately I was only getting physical validation from the opposite sex. Of course, thinking back on it with my adult brain, I can ascribe more nuance to this situation now than I could, or they could, back then. But it’s a memory that has remained with me ever since.
When I moved to America, it was a very hot summer. It was a new country, new language, and I didn’t know anyone my age yet. The food in America was very different from Iceland, especially at that time. McDonald’s famously failed in Iceland because they supposedly wanted to import their ingredients instead of using the much better quality local ingredients. I’m not sure of the veracity of this, I’m sure there are more complicated factors to consider, but it’s a point of pride you could say.
Fast food wasn’t particularly a thing and if it was, it meant waiting 10-15 minutes for it to be cooked, unlike America, where it’s ready in a matter of moments. That summer, I sat inside (it was so hot for me), I ate, and I watched TV. My English got better but my weight went up. It had been steady and normal in Iceland, but I rocketed up to a size 16 before I started school in America in a matter of months. In retrospect, this is when my yoyoing started.
I played varsity soccer and it helped me lose weight just through movement, down to a size 10. While playing varsity may sound impressive, full disclosure, I was the 12th person there and I got on the team because at least then there would be one alternate. I scored 1 goal, played in most games, even when our own coach didn’t show up. There’s a lot to unpack here but for now, this is the moment I first made the connection between movement and feeling good, movement and losing weight.
Over the next decade plus, my weight crept up, more yoyoing, small successes here and there. I was shocked when I topped 263 and swore I would never go higher. I got down to 242 and I failed. I am not sure if this was my highest weight but I topped out, to my knowledge, at 293 pounds. I had become well over two times the person I should be. I could be two healthy people. I felt ashamed at failing to control my body.
Losing weight now is hard, and it’s getting harder as I have gotten older. Movement is harder because it’s difficult to find the time and the willpower, especially after a long day of work, when all I want to do is become a potato on the couch.
I want to be seen but it scares me. I want to be desired but it scare me. I want to be heard but I don’t want to be heard because of how I look, or dismissed because of how I look. I am still me, no matter what my body looks like. My contribution, good or bad, is the same. It’s only how others view me that changes.
Which begs the question, why do we live our lives for other people’s approval? It’s frustrating, difficult. Is losing weight worth it? Who am I doing it for? Is for me enough? Am I wanting to lose weight to fit into social standards, bowing to pressure, or for me, for health and happiness? How can I even tell the difference anymore, between what I want and what I think I should want? I should be enough for me, as I am, but I’m not.
I am now on a journey to change my mindset, to change my approach to me. I’m not there yet, by any means, but I want to learn how to be a whole person through health and all the subcategories of it.
Health is more than our physical bodies. It’s also mental, intellectual, social and financial. All of these parts, and sub-parts, cohesively, create the life we are living today. Progress in one area at the expense of another is a bandaid at best. To be in the best physical shape, but have no social support in the form of friends or close family, doesn’t make a holistic person.
This is my first step in a journey about learning how to heal from within, body mind and soul. I hope you decide to take this journey with me and start your own journey of understanding who you really are.
