My Hardest Relationship

My negative relationship with food happened when I was around 5th grade - 10 years old or so- and it seemed to all happen in a whirlwind of events. That summer of 1970. we went as ever to spend two weeks in southwestern Iowa to visit and invade my dad's relatives' lives. At same point, while visiting my grandparents, I overheard my grandfather in the basement, talking to my mother.

"It is too bad Sharon is turning out to be fat," he was saying in that disapproving tone he was an expert at adopting,"she is such a beauty, otherwise."

My mother, I am not sure what she said to be honest, or what else I heard from the top of the staircase, but those words ... "turning out to be fat ... such a beauty otherwise ..." kept refraining in my head.

Over and over. Over and over and over. Over and over and over and over ... you get the idea.

And so, I began my first diet. Deprivation and resentments and failure and more resentments. Looking at other girls, skinny bitches, with a combination of deep desire and burning envy. Why could I not starve myself, deprive myself, and magically transform myself into one of them? Why was I stuck in this fat, fat body?

The next event occurred in school, a few months later. It was one of those much-hated-by-yours-truly days at school where you had to complete various "fitness" tasks. I already knew I was not athletic, not even able to run around the school without being out of breathe and having side cramps. Why did they have to remind me with a pounding thud, over and over again throughout the day? Always picked last for teams, I had even been beaten up by angry competitive kids whose team I "made lose" with my horrible lack of skills. So, therefore, I was already dreading the day ahead of humiliation and pain.

But no, it got better! We all had to step on scales while a nurse announced our weight to our entire class, and recorded it. I began to tremble from head to toe and was feeling like peeing and throwing up simultaneously when it was my turn for the torture.

"145 pounds," she announced, and I felt as if the world was opening up to swallow me whole.

I would not say my entire class burst out laughing and talking in derogatory terms about that number, but it sure felt that way. I can also see, looking back, that this was one of many instances in which I dissociated and did not let the full emotional effect of what was happening affect me, But it did hit me physically and once again, efforts to lose weight commenced. With the same mixed and limited results.

Then there was the boy I had a crush on. He looked like one of my celebrity crushes at the time, Robert Morse. I had one or two "friends" at that point, just little snippy girls whose friendship was not super satisfying for me. I told them that I had a thing for this boy, and they took it upon themselves to tell him of my feelings for him. And to tell me of his reaction ...which was basically, "Yuck, she's fat!"

It all pointed to me, in 5th grade, drinking my first protein shakes for two meals a day, and having salad and celery for dinner as me "one healthy meal," and stepping on scales and crying that I have not lost any weight, or I have but not enough, or fast enough, or ....

A lifetime of diets and scales and binge eating and avoiding scales, of closets full of "good, skinny clothes" and "bad, fatso clothes." Of always comparing myself to other women in terms of "is she thinner than me?"

As well, a lifetime of cheating and binging, of falling off the wagon and spinning out of control, eating all the crap I had been avoiding and gaining back any weight I had lost with rapidity, telling myself I had to get back on track, and beginning the cycle all over again.

When I got older, I would have periods of thinness - either due to being in state of poverty, or chemically induced, and I would have periods of chubbiness, where I would, looking back, be a healthy weight plus a little extra, but I felt horribly fat at the time. I never really allowed myself to become super overweight until much later, when I was a divorced single mom of teens and no longer using drugs that were appetite suppressants. As well, I had no-one to tell me what I could and could not eat or that I was getting fat ... and so, I felt in control of my life, and what I ate went out of control.

I saw a photo of myself fixing Ali's hair in 2007, realized how big I had gotten, and decided it was time for sensible eating and working out. To the tune of waking up and exercising, and coming home from work and exercising, and tracking every single calorie I ate. I did lose weight, and felt good, and was really really obsessed with it all.

I also went through Hep C treatment in that time, and my first long-term lesbian relationship since high school, and delved deeper into my career as a counselor, and was just generally busy and feeling fulfilled. I am not exactly sure when that started changing, exactly.

But now in 2016, here I am, once again, fat and out of shape. Following a new meal plan though, one that is simple, balanced, and allows for versatility without deprivation. As well as not obsessively exercising, but beginning to progress once again in my workouts. Still trying to find a good balance in my life.

More to come ...