The dieting dance

Sitting around the dinner table at a friend's house for my first ever sleepover, we ate dinner. I was giddy with excitement. My first ever sleepover. I was eight. And I was excited. I sat with my friend and her two brothers, as well as her mum and her dad. I was the odd one out, all the kids were skinny and I, well ... I wasn't. The dad called me Miss Piggy, jesting me about my size. My heart sank and I immediately wanted to go home.

I was 11 when I started eating my dad's Jenny Craig food in an attempt to be thinner. I took it to school with me and tried to hide it from my friends.

I was 12 when I started my first crash diet. I wanted to be thin before starting high school. I spent my entire summer holidays dreaming up ways to get skinny, quickly. I failed.

I was 14 when I first joined a weight loss club. I lost 4kg in my first week and after the leader announced it, the whole room applauded.

On the eve of my 30th birthday, after almost 22 years of dieting, I was exhausted. Each Monday I'd wake full of hope, eager to start a new diet. Full of promise and self-belief. Every Tuesday I belittled myself and labeled myself a failure. I decided I was saying no to dieting from my thirties and beyond. I was done. I didn't want to diet again. I didn't want to feel like a failure. And just like that I gave up dieting.

And then two weeks later I walked into Weight Watchers and signed up for the 28th time. I didn't make it to the next weigh-in, or any weigh-in after that.

I didn't know life not dieting. I'd done it everyday, in some way or form, for most of my life. I needed to know what I should be eating, and how much and when. One week it was no carbs, the next no sugar. I didn't trust myself enough to make decisions for myself. I needed a diet to tell me what to do. And then I'd simply rebel against it.

So exhausted, and consumed by my consuming I reached out for help, and I started talking to a body image counselor. I could barely describe the way I felt. I was just exhausted, hopeless and feeling trapped within myself. I was the happiest I'd ever been, but there was just 'this' hanging on my shoulders.

Over the weeks and months I began to shed my emotional baggage that I'd stored for so long. It was hard at first, but I soon unraveled. I was so tightly wound and attached to my behaviour that I couldn't see a way out. Thankfully I began to see the light.

In March this year I consulted Dr Google convinced I was dying with some rare disease. I typed in the symptoms "nausea, stomach, eating, full". Each time I ate a meal, I could feel my body respond. I had no idea what it was doing, but I thought my time was up.

I told my counselor how I was feeling over the phone. She diagnosed me with an 'aha' moment. My mind had finally caught up with my body and for the first time since forever I was feeling full. My body was finally trusting itself and I was experiencing hunger and fullness, something I'd relied on diets for since my pre-teen days.

There's a lot of dieting un-doing I've had to do over the past year or so. Sometimes I trip. Often I'm lured by the glamour of a quick-fix diet. There have been times I've reverted back to my old behaviour of trying to rebel against the diet, only to realise that there wasn't one.

Slowly I'm losing my weight and wrapping my mind around listening and trusting myself enough to do what I want and need. I know now it's a matter of staying in tune and moving more, in a way that I enjoy ... instead of in a way that punishes my body for eating badly.

I know I'll get there. In the meantime I've found a new respect for myself. A love for myself for the journey, instead of reserving it for the destination as I'd done all these years before now. It's no longer 'I'll love myself when I'm thin, instead I'll love myself now ... as best as I can'.


Do you diet? What's your relationship with your body like?

{image via weheartit}