What happened to the playground? Children and Weight Loss

I apologize for being absent lately. Normally, when I refrain from writing for so long, it's because I haven't been eating well and I'm not making my recovery an active part of my everyday life. But that isn't the case right now. Actually, it's quite the opposite.

The reason I really wanted to write today was to ask the opinion of you, my beautiful readers, regarding something that has been very puzzling to me lately. I belong to a gym in the city where I live. This gym, unlike any that I've belonged to in the past, allows children to gain membership (as part of a family plan, I'm sure) and use the equipment, most of them unsupervised. When I say children, I don't mean teenagers. I mean children. Little kids. 8, 9, 10 years old, swinging around on the elliptical like it's a toy. Not only is it unsafe, it begs the question, what kind of message is being sent these children about body image?

Even when the children are being supervised, it's still incredibly disturbing to me. Like yesterday, a father was working out on an elliptical next to his son, who was around 10 years old. The kid was pedaling the elliptical, sweating, wiping his forehead, sipping water. He was pushing himself as hard as I was. A few rows ahead of us, a trainer from the gym was teaching a kids class. 6 children were stretching, doing sit-ups, running in place, doing squats, taking turns on the treadmill. All the adults in the gym were going about their business. No one seemed to be freaking out, except for me. So I wonder, am I too sensitive? Is it because I have an eating disorder and I understand not only the benefit, but the possible dangers associated with diet and exercise? Is it because I used to be that kid, overweight, always thinking about my body, on a diet every day of my life before I was even in high school? I understand that childhood obesity is a problem in this country. But is strapping your kid to an elliptical where he can look at the calories he's burned the solution?

It made me think: what happened to the playground? What happened to playing tag, kickball, dodgeball. Red rover, red rover, send so-and-so over?

Isn't there a better way to teach our children how to be healthy?

In other words, can't we help them be healthy without calling so much attention to it? Can't we let them think exercise and healthy eating are just normal, not something they have to think about and be conscious of and monitor their progress with?

I understand there are two sides to this issue. I am not an expert in this field. It just seems so unnatural and unsafe to me. It seems so alarming because I was that chubby, unhealthy kid. I went on my first diet when I was 8 years old. I was taking diet pills on and off from ages 14-22. I've lost 80 lbs, I've been bulimic. I've tried every diet, every trick, I've been, at one point or another, almost every size in the clothing department. The point being, I've never felt just good enough. I've never been satisfied with my weight, no matter how fat or how thin. I've never been happy being me.

I just don't want anyone else to have to go through that. And when I see these kids at the gym I can't help but think of the child version of myself, struggling and sad and feeling fat and ordinary, wishing she were thin. Wishing she were pretty. Willing and sick and desperate enough to do whatever she had to do to lose weight.

And then she did. And it didn't change anything.

What was the point, then? What did it solve, all those years of dieting and exercise and purging and restricting and binge eating and crying and not feeling good enough and wanting to change and wanting to die?

Nothing.

It solved nothing.

I guess the point I'm trying to arrive at is this: if you are unhappy, if you don't feel good enough, if you don't love yourself, if you aren't at peace with who you are right now, then losing weight isn't going to change any of that. Even if the diet commercials and talk shows on television tell you otherwise. Changing your outward appearance does just that: it changes you physically. If you are emotionally damaged, it's the inside of your body that needs to be changed. It's your heart that is in need of healing. Your spirit. Your mind. Your soul.

No diet is going to change that.

Open Your Heart

I'm glad to say my boyfriend is finally back from his business trip to Boston. He was gone for two months, leaving me here alone. In other words, the ultimate test of my commitment to recovery. It's huge for me, eating on my own. He (next to my faith in God) has been the most crucial part of my recovery. For the last five years he has taken the time to understand my eating disorder and to help me beat it. Even long before I was ready to get better, he was in my corner, fighting for me to get better. When he's around not eating or restricting is never an option. He simply won't stand for it. But, as I've said before, I can't depend on him to make me eat. I have to do it for myself. I can't be better when he's around and then fall to pieces when I'm on my own. Though I stumbled more than once while he was gone, I'm proud that I didn't spiral into a dark, dark place. There were days when I didn't eat nearly enough, but those days were rare. Most of the time I managed to eat properly and healthily. In other words, I love my boyfriend, I'm happy he's home again, and I want to be healthy for him, but I'm glad to know without a doubt that I have what it takes to be healthy for myself.

We went to the gym tonight after he got home from work. I don't like working out with other people and he doesn't either, so we do our own thing and meet up again when we're ready to leave. I was on the elliptical when I noticed a girl two rows in front of me on a treadmill. Her ponytail is what caught my attention, actually. It kept bobbing up and down as she ran. I wasn't staring at her on purpose, but I found my eyes going back to her over and over again. I felt some kind of connection to her that I couldn't explain. Something told me she had an eating disorder. I don't know why. She was doing nothing to suggest it. She was only running, steady, methodical, determined. Maybe I saw a bit of myself in her actions, the way she ran, the way she looked from side to side. She was thin but not overly thin. She looked normal. Was she? Did I look normal? Was I?

I wondered how many people around me had or have had eating disorders. It's hard to tell by looking at some one. Even people who are very thin are rarely thin because of an eating disorder. On the other hand, people who are a normal weight or even overweight could be suffering from an eating disorder without anyone knowing. Like me. At one point in my life it was obvious that I was sick. But now, no one would ever know. I'm just like any other girl there, the one to the left of me, the one to the right.

We came home and made spaghetti. I ate a lot. My brain kept telling me that I needed to burn some calories off regardless of my workout earlier, but I didn't listen. I wanted to have soy ice cream but my brain reminded me I already ate enough today. And then the ticker tape started up, the calories, ticking. 100, 200, 300, 400. I could see all the day's calories rolling out in front of me. It's tempting to add them all up and know exactly how many calories I've had. In the past, that was my only option; I had to know the number. It was the most important part of the day. It measured my progress and determined my plan for the next day. I could close my eyes at night thinking of nothing except that number 700, or 300. 900, or 0. Regardless, that number was the most important thing, next to the number on the scale, of course. Now I couldn't care less.

I'm not afraid of a stupid number.

I am thankful for how far I've come.

I hope that girl at the gym has never had an eating disorder, and I hope she never does. I wouldn't wish this on anyone.

But, for those of us who have to go through this, I just want to offer a reminder:

There is a way out.

There is life on the other side.

There are more important things than calories and fat grams and the size on the tag inside your jeans.

And you're beautiful, no matter what size, shape, weight, age, race, height, gender, nationality, religion, sexual preference.

We're only ugly when we open our hearts to hate.

So open them to love.

I'm opening mine to soy ice cream.

Yum.

No matter what weight

I've been really frustrated lately because I'm gaining weight. Since I've been so sick for the last few months it has been all but impossible for me to exercise. Sometimes I can manage to do yoga or pilates if I'm really feeling well. Most days, however, I can barely walk the trash out to the dumpster without feeling like I'll faint. Today was one of those days. I tried to do yoga. Coming out of triangle pose, it felt like my head was being sucked straight down through my body and onto the floor. The room got dark. It was like standing up too fast only worse. I closed my eyes and held my head in my hands until it passed.

Later on the phone with my boyfriend, I tried to vent my frustration. I hate not being able to work out. It's not completely because of my eating disorder. I don't want to work out to lose weight; I want to work out because I want to be active. I'm tired of being sick and inactive. I want to do the things I used to do. But now, after these few months of inactivity, I've gained a few pounds. I told my boyfriend how stressed out that made me feel. I kind of snapped. I said something like,

"I REFUSE to gain more weight. It's either work out, or starve."

...

We both recognized that voice.

After a moment of silence, my boyfriend kind of panicked and went on and on and on about how messed up that was and how I absolutely would not starve. Of course he's right. Of course he is. I know that and I didn't mean to say it. It just spilled out without me even thinking about it.

I don't like feeling this desperate about my body. I hate it. It makes me remember. It makes me uncomfortable. It has to end.

I do know that my health is the most important thing. I want nothing more than to be healthy. Not sick, healthy. Not desperate, healthy. Not skinny, healthy.

Not anorexic.

Healthy.

I'll be honest and admit it. I hate gaining weight. I am at a normal weight now. I'm at a healthy weight. I've been this weight for quite some time without going up or down. Once my weight leveled off, I felt comfortable. After a while my eating disordered thoughts seemed to calm down.

I guess I'm okay being me as long as that me doesn't change.


I guess I want recovery on a conditional basis. Recovery by my rules. Recovery my way.

But guess what? It doesn't work like that.

Loving your body means loving your body no matter what.

Loving yourself means loving yourself no matter what.

Accepting yourself means accepting yourself no matter what.

No matter what size

No matter what shape

No matter what weight.