Before I begin this post I wanted to warn those who are recovering from an eating disorder or are suffering from anything similar then this post focuses on body image. You may or may not find this triggering, but I thought I should make you all aware.
It’s nearly been a year since I started writing my blog. In those very early days when Celery and Cupcakes was just a little idea thought up during a busy day in my lab I had no clue what to expect or even where to begin. But, I know that one thing for certain I have never looked back. During this time, I have been nothing but honest with you all. However, there is something that I have kept back. Don’t worry it’s nothing demonic, hideous or scary. It’s simply about why entered the enchanting world of blog land.
Everyone has a story, right? Well I thought that it was about time that I shared with you
I think almost everyone is always on that quest for perfection, whether it be in their job, relationships or how they dress. Obviously the very idea of perfection is different for everybody. It is an entity that is individual to the person that craves it. I craved it. I was hooked on trying to find it from a very young age. And after all of those years of trying I never did find it.
Let’s get one thing straight I’ve never had an eating disorder. For me to say that I did would simply be cruel and disrespectful for those who are suffering at the unkind hands of an ED. Although, I would say that I became obsessive about what I was eating, why I was eating it and did I really need to eat it.
On my mum’s side of the family, the women, in particular, are all much more generously proportioned than most. As a result, growing up I was always surrounded by weight loss diets, Slimming World, Weight Watchers, Atkins. Repeated weigh in reports of being 2lbs up or 3lbs down. At some point, it was going to have an impact on me.
This impact all became apparent at school when I was 14. I started to take notice of how [some] of my supernaturally slim friends used to eat. I was always in awe by they way that they could eat so little and somehow be satisfied. I thought that there must have been something wrong with me. I was somehow greedy for wanting to have chips with my slice of pizza. So it was away with the chips. I started just eat slices of pizza or just a chocolate bar at lunch because I was kidding myself that this was healthy. Restricting what you eat when there is no reason to is never healthy. To my mum’s surprise, I always seemed to inhale my dinner in seconds, her sausage casserole with mashed potatoes being my favourite at the time.
I’ve never been overweight and I’ve never been super tiny either. But, aspiring to be like my much slimmer friends started to take over. Before bed every night I would go up to my room and put on my mum’s Cindy Crawford fitness DVD. I thought it was necessary to do this every night for my own good. To achieve that slimmer figure of my friends and those teenage magazines that I always used to buy.
My addictive personality’s grasp on this need to be skinny took another hit when a distorted body image problem began to develop. When I looked in the mirror I always saw a much bigger girl in my reflection. I hated my curves. I hated being slightly larger than my other friends. I hated my frizzy curls. I didn’t like the look of the girl staring back at me. Soon came the sneaking into my mums room to weigh myself every day and the calorie counting also ensued.
I did kind of get over this wanting to be slimmer. I put it away in a box somewhere and stapled the lid shut. However, staples can become unstuck. It’s always been in the back of my mind. Maybe it always will be. It’s hard to break a habit that has gone on for so long. I noticed this when I started my relationship with Alfie and put on a few pounds. Without noticing, I began to analyse my figure in the mirror again. Eating lighter and smaller meals. However, this time was different as I was happy. I was happy in my relationship. I was happy that somebody loved me for who I was no matter how small or large I was. This was the case in my early teens, but I failed to realise it back then.
The more I think about the younger me. The old me. I cannot believe how different we are. I’m supposed to have curves. I’m supposed to have a more fuller butt. That’s just my figure. It doesn’t define who I am.
It took me a while, but now I know that food is no the enemy. In fact, I love to eat and experimenting with food. It’s just the most creative thing. The most satisfying thing. I look at food with a much healthier perspective and get excited about meal times. Being strong and healthy far outweighs any desperation to be skinny. Listening to what my body wants is so important to me. If it wants chocolate than that what it shall have. I’m ok at giving in to my cravings now as I know that it’s not going to do me any harm.
I’ve learned to accept myself and the way I look. Now when I have to use the mirror to check my face or flatten down an unruly stray hair the girl looking back always remembers to smile.
So that’s my story.
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