Guest Post: Things Aren't Always What They Seem

It is a thrill and an honor to be able to anonymously guest post for the infamous AliThinks! When asked if I would like to guest post, my immediate thought was "Yes!" The next thought was, "what in the world can I post about, that will even come close to doing justice to her blog?" Well, after much thought and deliberation, I have decided that perhaps I should just post about something that I would not normally address on my own venue--- something that is near and not-so-dear to my heart, and something that I struggle with that may be of some benefit to others.

Allow me to preface this by saying that I don't "know" Alison; I have never met her in person, never spoken with her on the phone.   I do feel like we have some attributes in common, and I admire and respect her as a woman, mother, and friend.

Who am I?
I am Jane Doe.
I am everywoman.
I am a middle class, Middle America, white-anglo-saxon-protestant working married mother.
I am the woman in front of you in the grocery line, rooting through her purse for her debit card. I am the person on the other end of the phone handling your questions.
I have advanced degrees, have been a stay at home mom, and have finally found some semblance of balance between my working life and my home life, although it is a daily struggle.
I am reasonably attractive, moderately intelligent, can glibly carry a conversation, and am quick on my feet.

But.
There is always a but, isn't there?

There is a part of me that I struggle with every single second of every single day. If there is one thing that I hope to impart through this brief, impersonal post, it would be this. When you see someone that you think may have it all together, don't make assumptions. Everyone has issues, absolutely everyone. There is always more under the surface that you won't see with just a passing glance.

One of my earliest memories as a child was realizing that my mother was on a diet. I thought my mother was the most beautiful person in the world; one of the gifts of childhood is seeing your parents through rose-colored glasses. The dichotomy between the beautiful mother that played dolls with me, and the woman that was whipping up Alba shakes in the blender didn't make sense to me. She was perfect.

The lesson--- she wasn't perfect. Perfection, in my eyes, was not enough---- she thought that she was fat, so that must be a bad thing. She was at most 10 pounds overweight and apparently that was unacceptable. The warped lesson I learned? NO matter how beautiful the surface is, beautiful = fat. And fat is a bad, bad thing.

Gym class, probably in about the 4th grade. All of the girls lined up and were weighed, and the numbers were written down by the coach. The really thin girls preened and pranced; the overweight girls crossed their arms, hunched their shoulders, and learned that they were unacceptable. The normal girls (like me) realized that even though they were completely within the normal range, the weigh-in was something to be dreaded and feared. The numbers that were written down in the little book somehow defined you as a person. Little girls lined up to be judged, and somehow everyone was judged inferior.  I found myself cutting my eyes to look at the size of the thighs on the other test subjects, were they bigger than mine?  Could I see the cut of my thigh?  It is so easy to rate people, thinnest to fattest.

High school. By this time, I had learned how to be "popular." How to make people like me. What clubs to be in, what activities to participate in. I kept a diary all throughout my life, and what did I post right by the date? My weight. I weighed 134 on November 1, 1984. Perfectly normal for my height. But it wasn't good enough, I wasn't good enough. I had a large circle of friends, had plenty of dates, but I was never going to be good enough. I asked one of my "friends" that was involved in an extra-curricular activity how she stayed so lean, when she ate so much. Her answer? "Gah, you are so lame. Don't you know? You eat whatever you want, you get rid of it! It is awesome! Just be careful, don't let anyone catch you..."

How did I not KNOW this?  A whole new world suddenly opened up for me; by lunchtime, I would be ravenously hungry, so I would eat. A lot. I would eat until I felt like I couldn't eat another bite, then I would disappear to the bathroom for a few minutes. It takes practice and obscene skill to v * omit (don't want any people wanting pointers to be able to google this) without having it come out your nose or swell up your face, but it can be done. It was an epidemic--- the parade of girls from the lunchroom to the bathroom.

A few hours later, I would be so sleepy that I couldn't keep my eyes open. "Have another diet coke, it will get you though the day," I would tell myself. Besides, wasn't it worth it? 134, 130, 128, 122, 118... Finally, I was morphing into the person that I thought I wanted to be. And nobody knew... But you know, I wonder. How did they not know? How did the teachers not know? How did my parents not know? Or did they not WANT to know?

Fast forward to college--- I was still involved in athletics, and found that I needed more energy to be able to keep up, so I tucked away the knowledge that I had of the secret weapon to being thin, and started eating. With the eating, came energy, and with the energy, I excelled at my chosen sport. I was obsessed though, and frankly I was horrified. I was muscular and lean, but I was 138 pounds on January 1, 1987. 138! My mother was fasting at 138! How can this be OK!??? But, it was ok, I was having fun and living the life, but I never, ever looked at a mirror unless I was doing my hair or putting on makeup. Ever. I didn't want to see my grossly obese body staring back at me. I felt good, and had energy, but I was still disgusted by the supposed layer of fat coating my body, suffocating me.  Strangling me.

Then I met my husband. He told me that he had never in his life seen anyone more beautiful than me. I knew that he was lying, he had to be, how could he really think that? He was just flattering me, buttering me up. But it sounded good and it felt good, and I fell in love. And with that, the thoughts went on the back burner for a few years.

Pregnant. I had to eat for the baby, right? I had to keep those nutrients going in, because I was a GOOD mother-to-be! Oh sure, I ate the healthy things, but I also downed entire rolls of Pillsbury sugar cookie dough rolls. I also made cream of wheat in the afternoons with plenty of sugar, my drug of choice. It was great, I could eat whatever I wanted...

The baby is 3 weeks old. I have lost about 20 pounds since it was born. 20 pounds off of 200 isn't all that significant though, my GOD, what have I DONE, WHAT WAS I THINKING!!!! Turn off the phone, lock the front door, and sink into self-imposed isolation. My first major depression of my life; the most frightening experience I have ever gone through. I quit eating, totally. I wasn't even hungry. My milk dried up. What a loser. What a horrible mother. How can I be expected to take care of this gorgeous baby, when I am barely hanging on to my own sanity? I am just going through the motions; I don't feel like getting out of bed. I wish my friends would quit calling me, because they should get the clue pretty soon that I am not going to call them back. Luckily, they were just that. Friends. They didn't quit calling, they didn't quit coming by. They hung with me through this dark valley, and were waiting on the other side with shoulders to lean on, or just a chair pulled up beside me to sit in silence. Their silence, more than anything else, helped me refocus and slowly come back.

Slowly, slowly, "I" resurfaced. A different me, a changed me, but not altogether a worse version. I was a wiser and savvier version of the same old bundle of insecurities. "How did you lose the weight so fast? How do you look so good after having a baby? I wish I had your metabolism!" You guys are crazy. I lost weight because I quit eating. My hair fell out. Don't look to me for an example, unless you want a bad example. Don't wish you were me. Even I don't wish I was me.  Don't praise me, don't you know that that just fuels the fire?  I am not the sum total of my weight.  I'm not.  The more I hear how much "better" this version is than the old version, the more weight I lose.  See me, don't see my weight.

Today. On the top of my diary today, April 17, 2006, 127 pounds. But you know what? I threw up just yesterday, but not necessarily to get rid of food. I have an unmarked bottle of phen*ter*mine hidden in the back of my medicine cabinet. I may be better, and even slightly normal, but I haven't yet let go of my security blanket of old tricks. Oh no, I may look good for my age, but don't assume that everything is ok, or that I have good metabolism.  Just because someone looks healthy, doesn't mean they ARE healthy, I am living proof of that.

Why do I tell you all this? Just to "out" my anonymous self as a raging lunatic? To give you an example of what NOT to do?
Selfishly, it is because nobody knows, and I want someone to know.
Selfishly, it is because I want to understand that self-destructive behavior, and learn how to fix it.
Selfishly, it is because I want to save all of our sons and daughters from a lifetime of warped self-image.
Altruistically, because I want to tell you how I have somewhat "fixed" myself.

*I may not look in mirrors still, but I don't think I am fat anymore. I am a normal size. I am ok. My husband loved me without measure when I was significantly heavier, and he loved me when I was skin and bones. He doesn't understand it, but he loves me... despite.... And he doesn't "out" me. He doesn't make me feel more ashamed than I already do.

*I may not binge eat and then p * urge, but it is still in the back of my mind. I want that not to be an option anymore. I don't want to have it filed away for future reference. I have learned how to eat, learned what to eat, and eat in a fairly healthy manner. I feel wonderful and have a great energy level. I know WHAT to do, but I still have those thoughts in the back of my head. I want to banish the obsession with calories, the avoidance of seeing myself, the self-loathing. I want to see myself as everyone else sees me.

*I don't want my children to ever see me dieting. I don't want them to think that I think that I'm NOT ok. I keep them active, feed them healthy food, and help them get plenty of sleep. I don't want them to have this obsession with food. I don't want them to believe that their body size is their defining reality.

My point with this rambling post? Just because someone looks thin or lean, may not mean that it is easy.
They may struggle every single day with self-destructive thoughts.
They may be amused rather than flattered when someone whistles at them on the street.
They may have issues that you have not ever heard of or even considered, and may seem trivial to you, but to that person, it is a minute-by-minute struggle.
They may be unable or unequipped to deal with some emotions, and stuff those emotions down with food or humor--- then feel the subsequent guilt and shame.
They may finally have it somewhat together.
They may be trying to do the best they can, for the sake of their family.

That person might be someone like me.

Comments

[kim]

Wow! What a post!

I applaud your honesty and I'm glad you have worked out some issues, I can relate to alot of what you said. High school was the same for me, somehow luckily, I never brought it into my adulthood.

It's so hard, weight issues are the worst to have, and yet so very easy to get!

Thank you for guest posting! You'll change someone's life with this post, I'm sure of it!

[edieraye]

Bravo! What a brave and honest post.

[ally bean]

"Just because someone looks thin or lean, may not mean that it is easy."

so very true. thanks for sharing your experiences.

[formersnowbug]

I come at this from the other side, always heavy. But it's the exact same conversation in yoru head, no matter what side you're on: My body is not good enough, and therefor I am not good enough. It's a load of crap, and in my head, I know that. In my heart, though... Well, I'm still working on that.

I just wanted to thank you for such an honest entry, and tell you that even big girls know what you're saying.

[catheroo]

Thank you for writing this amazing entry.

I think every woman (and some men) can relate to your story in some way. They may not have taken the same steps, but have felt the same emotions. I know I did/do.

Kudos to you on your "awakening," and for teaching your children from your own valuable lesson.

Be well.

[anica]

I sincerely loved your post. I struggle with my body every single day. and i think I am fat. Everyone that matters tells me so. But I also try to be reasonalbel and eat reasonably. It is really hard and I hope that your struggle will end with something positive and joyful.

[Margaret]

Amazing post. I have discovered that nothing is as it seems many times throughout my life. It is always a shock to me, although I should have realized by now that everyone does have issues, and problems.

[Monty]

I wish I had your strength and courage. Thank you so much.

[Daisy]

*gulp* - thank you for sharing your story with us.

I can't believe that we (of both genders) have allowed a tiny, tiny minority in the press and in the fashion business to dictate how we feel about our bodies. It's time to stop!

[newwavegurly]

I've started and stopped writing a response to your post many MANY times yesterday and today. It spoke to me on many levels, even though like snowbug, I'm at the other side of the spectrum.

It took me a long time to accept myself (and my body) for who I am — and I still have my moments when I slip back into old thought patterns. I know I'm a stronger and more attractive person because I enjoy the person that I've become, no matter what size I am.

[Amber]

Fabulous post! Me? I would most likely be jealous of you if I saw you walking down the street... and probably make a snarky comment like 'Never trust a girl who's thighs don't rub together'! (all in good humour of course)

I am lucky in the fact that I have never had self image issues. I believe my parents instilled a tremendous amount of 'self love' and self worth in me... and I married a man that completely adores me and my body (I said I was lucky, didn't I?)... I'm overweight and hate it, but for all the 'right reasons' - health, energy, etc. I like 'me' the way I am, but I really do need to learn to look in the mirror and say 'Girlfriend, you need your jaw wired!!'

I hope you find the interal strength to love yourself - and to know (I mean REALLY know) that you are an amazing, beautiful creature... no, I don't know who you are, but I could hazard a guess and probably be right.

Again, great post!

[Melissa]

Wow. Thank you for being so honest and "naked" with your emotions.