Fat and Happy — The Journey So Far

TW: eating disorders, body dysmorphia, mental health, suicidal ideation

If only my 13-year old self could see my body now — I don’t know if she’d be horrified or inspired. But certainly, she would never guess that the current version of myself is the happiest I’ve ever been.

Y’all, it’s still ongoing. I’m still working through it. The thing with trauma is that it’s a journey without an end in sight. You crest one hill only to discover another. But it’s more than worth it.

I’m a firm believer that if more people share their stories, it creates more diversity — more opportunity for others to see themselves and find the inspiration and support they need to make their lives better. I’m publishing this window into my story in the hopes that it will inspire some, educate others, and maybe touch the lives of a few folks who need some help, as I did.

So let’s go back…

In childhood…

Growing up in the 90s and early 2000s, my view of bodies and what is “normal” is definitely warped. Every grocery store is packed with the tabloid articles about how “huge” Jessica Simpson and Britney Spears are (with their flat stomachs, mind you). A TV show host asks Victoria Beckham to weigh herself on live TV to prove that she’s “keeping off” the baby weight. The Victoria’s Secret Angels are the ideal body type. I hear my mom talk about how she won’t wear sleeveless shirts because she doesn’t want to show her upper arms. I hear the adults around me react with disgust and judgement to seeing people with obesity.

As a competitive gymnast, I never have to worry about what I eat because I have a lightning-fast metabolism. I’m in the gym 40+ hours a week. I eat a lot. I need it as fuel, but… I also use food to deal with my emotions. The stress of being bullied by my teammates and my coach. Having almost-daily anxiety and panic attacks over the dangerous skills I’m performing. The only time I feel totally okay and happy… is when I’m eating.

The Ex-Athlete Struggle

This coping mechanism doesn’t go away when I tear my ACL and quit the sport at 16 years old. And suddenly, my athletic body is changing. I have bigger boobs now, and my ass sticks out. My family makes well-meaning jokes and comments about my new body. But they’re just teasing me. My sister has a bigger body than I do and that gets commented on all the time too. I watch her trying to diet without success, and I worry that that will be me. I’ve seen even Olympic gymnasts get fat when they quit the sport. It won’t get any worse if I can just find some self-control.

I’m just trying to be careful with what I eat. It’s simple math to lose weight, right? Calorie intake and output. Rice cakes instead of a sandwich. Skipping breakfast. Drink water when you’re hungry, or chew gum. Smell the piece of pizza while you’re eating celery. Everyone around me, every girl my age, we’re all doing the same thing. None of us want to be fat, to be looked down upon with disgust.

Trying to eat under 500 calories a day shows willpower and self-discipline! Those moments where I eat so much food that I’m in physical pain? God, I’m such a pig! Of course I don’t have an eating disorder. I’ve never been hospitalized. You can’t see my ribs. I still eat, it’s not like I’m starving myself. I just don’t want to be fat!

I’m 18 years old, and I have a boyfriend. He’s my first everything. After six months, his lock screen changes from a picture of him and me, to a picture of a skinny model. He tells me that he thinks thigh gaps are hot. I don’t have a thigh gap, and I never have. He cheats on me with my best friend. She’s skinnier than me. I forgive him and take him back. He does it again, and then also cheats with his ex-girlfriend. She’s also skinnier than me. His cheating has more to do with the fact that he’s an asshole and probably nothing to do with them being skinnier. But it doesn’t help.

Diet, then binge. Diet, then binge. Diet, then binge. Forget spaghetti, try these slimy tofu noodles that are impossible to chew… but they only have 50 calories per serving. Mmm, sticking to my goals feels so good! “Nothing tastes as good as skinny feels!”

College Sucked.

I’m 20 years old and transferring from my local community college to UC Santa Barbara. My first time moving away from home, living on my own. I have four roommates. They’ve all known each other since freshman year. The two living in the same room as me are always talking to each other in Spanish and don’t speak to me that much. The two living in the other room are nice to me and one of them becomes my friend. Still, I’m spending a lot of time alone. I don’t know anyone else here.

Some days I can’t leave my room at all. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I just can’t make myself go to class today. It’s not depression! At least, it’s not the depression like my friend has. Like, I don’t want to kill myself or anything. I’m just a lazy slob.

I barely ate anything today, and I was so proud because it felt like my diet was back on track! …And then I made a Cup Noodles, and it smelled so good, and it felt so good to eat it, that I had eight. In one sitting. I’m so disgusted with myself.

This happens at least a few times a week.

I’m slowly gaining weight. That fat on my arms is getting a little bigger.

I need to get my birth control renewed. I go to the clinic on campus, and the OB-GYN looks at my chart. “Your BMI is showing that you’re morbidly obese. You should think about going on a diet.” I’ve been told before that I weigh more because I’m a gymnast and have a lot of muscle, but I know that I have gotten more fat since I moved here. I could stand to lose a few pounds. I still have a flat stomach, but my thighs touch. I’ll go buy some salad stuff on the way home.

A year later and I’ve gained 40 pounds. I can’t stand to look at myself in the mirror. My belly has a permanent roll on it now. My cheeks are fatter. I feel so disgusting, all I can wear is baggy T-shirts and leggings. I buy a one-piece swimsuit for the beach because no one wants to see me in a bikini. I wear a T-shirt over it, too.

I’m having panic attacks almost daily because I’m so stressed out about my grades. I keep doing drop-in appointments with the psychologists here at the school, and they told me I should join a study group. They don’t mention therapy or medication, so I still must not be anxious or depressed enough for that. The only time I feel okay is when I’m eating. I eat more.

I’m having a really hard time focusing in classes and getting good grades. I flunk out of my chosen major and have to choose another.

I’ve joined the ballroom club. It’s so fun, and now I have friends! My first ever competition, we don’t make the finals but I had a blast! My dance partner tells me it’s my fault that we didn’t make finals because I need to work on my endurance. A ballroom judge tells me it’s a good idea for me to lose weight because if it’s a choice between two people with the same skill level, she’d pick the skinnier one. I’m a size 10 dress size now, and I have to make and rhinestone my own costumes because I don’t fit any of the affordable ones you can buy already-made.

My friends invite me out for pizza. I order a salad and steal bites of my friend’s pizza. I shouldn’t have my own slice.

I move back home for a few months after graduation and my panic attacks and anxiety are so bad that even my old-fashioned parents start taking them seriously. My dad says maybe I should talk to his doctor. Dr. Maples is so nice and he says 1 in 3 adults experience depression and anxiety and it’s nothing to be ashamed of. He gives me a prescription to take when the panic attacks happen. Only problem is I never have the pills on me when they do.

I’m still dieting and bingeing, every day. I’m still gaining weight.

Save me, San Francisco

I’m 22 and I just moved to the Bay Area to try to jumpstart my life, find a job, etc. I’ve been walking a lot since I moved here. My stomach is almost flat again! A great addition to my album of progress pictures. I’m doing a lot of dance things but I never get asked to dance. If I’m standing next to someone skinny, even when I’m dressed really nicely and wearing makeup, they always ask the other girl first. I have to go ask one of the good dancers and hope they say yes, then make sure we dance where everyone can see us. They usually are surprised that I dance so well. Then people ask me to dance after that.

I’m having a lot of racing thoughts. I feel like I’m functioning in a haze, blindly doing tasks for my job while my brain is buzzing down a train track of “what-if’s” and terrifying scenarios. I have panic attacks about every week still. I start to wonder what it would be like to have a… break… from these thoughts. I starve myself at lunch at work every day because 1) it’s cheaper and 2) I know I have a tendency to eat more when I’m stressed out. And I still don’t want to get fatter. I’m also skipping breakfast. But then I eat enough for three people at dinner.

My friend was so nice after I had a panic attack in his kitchen and suggested I try therapy at UCSF. It’s helping a lot. I’m no longer having suicidal thoughts and I can manage my racing thoughts and anxiety. My therapist gave me some advice for how to avoid bingeing when I’m anxious. I can’t wait to get my old body back. I still don’t think I have an eating disorder. I’ve never been hospitalized or anything. I’m just dieting like everyone else!

But I’m still gaining weight, and I can’t stop. Maybe it’s the birth control, or the fact that I’m now working at Google and there’s a lot of free, delicious food. They have a gym too, but I’m so exhausted during and after work that I never want to go. Plus I’m self-conscious being in there, looking the way that I look.

If I’m biking around the campus every day, I can earn more food and the binges won’t matter, right?

I know other dancers and friends who have bigger bodies, and I think they’re beautiful. But I still need to lose weight. I can’t pull off being fat. It makes me ugly. I don’t think I’ll ever be happy unless I’m skinny again.

Am I… not the problem?

I’m 25, and the world is falling apart, but one thing I DO have control over is me. So I’m going to use this time to get back into the best shape of my life! I saw an ad for this new app called Noom. It’s “psychology-based,” so it’s mentally healthy! and foolproof! They teach you all about nutrient dense foods and how to label them red, yellow, or green based on how good or bad they are. Also, they have you weigh yourself every day so that you have accurate data to tell if you’re losing weight. And you enter every calorie that goes into your mouth. I’ve never heard of orthorexia. This app is going to be it! (This is all sarcasm, btw.)

The app isn’t it. I lost ten pounds but then I gained it all back. I can’t stop binge-eating. WHY CAN’T I STOP EATING, I’M SUCH A FUCKING FAILU —

This body positivity influencer who popped up on my Instagram feed mentioned binge-eating disorder? That kind of sounds like what I do… I guess I should look into it.

Oh my God. I do have an eating disorder. I have two. I have binge-eating disorder and atypical anorexia. (It’s called atypical because I’m still fat even though I’m starving myself.)

This other influencer mentioned intuitive eating. What’s that? It’s helpful for people who have eating disorders? I’m going to research intuitive eating.

So, in order to reset my hunger cues and cravings, I need to… eat whatever I want? Jesus. What if I just… pig out and get so fat I can’t leave my house? All the intuitive eating specialists say on their websites and in their books that that won’t happen after some time… I guess it’s better to try this than keep going the way I have. I’m miserable. I have nothing to lose.

One month later…

Wow. I feel so… free. I hadn’t realized how much calorie counting had permeated my eating and increased my compulsion to binge. It’s so nice to not be constantly calculating in my head how much I’ve eaten and how much I have left in my budget. It’s so nice to eat food and not be constantly thinking about if it’s “good” food or “bad” food.

I don’t have brain fog anymore. I can focus better, and remember things!

I learn that the diet industry is worth $79 billion?? I learn how they profit of my shame and guilt. I don’t want to give them that. I learn that according to the NIH, diets have a 95% failure rate.

Following some advice from a few of the body-positive influencers I’ve found… I unfollow everyone on social media who I’ve been using as “goals” or comparing to myself, and I follow a bunch of influencers who look like me. My body is starting to look more normal to my eyes.

Fat should not be a bad word or an insult. It’s just a descriptor.

I’ve actually stopped gaining weight, and I don’t feel the need to binge anymore. It’s so nice to be able to go out to a restaurant and enjoy a full meal and focus on the time with my friends instead of adding up calories and planning punishing workouts when I get home.

I learn more about fatphobia and its roots in racism. I learn that BMI was invented by a Belgian astrologer using only white men as a study group. Labeling foods as good or bad is not only inaccurate, but eliminates nuance and conversation around access to fresh food. An intuitive eating dietician tells me that lot of the conversation around “processed” food is untrue — your body processes most of these carbs the same way as those “cleaner” meals.

My body feels so much better. I’m getting sick less. My hair is healthier and thicker.

Current Day

I’m 29. It’s been years since the last time I binged. I’m happier and healthier. I’m doing dance professionally, as my full-time career. I eat my food without a single guilty thought. I fuel my body the way it deserves. I don’t have to “earn” my food anymore.

I look back at my old self with pity, and compassion. I’m living the life she was so afraid of, and I’m thriving. But she had some reason to be afraid. Every. single. day. I’m confronted with the same patterns in the fabric of society that drove her into her eating disorder, that sowed fatphobia so deep into her psyche that she couldn’t look in a mirror sometimes.

Even though I’m a professional dancer, an athlete, if you will — my parents still comment on what I eat. They’re worried about me. I get it. They haven’t learned what I’ve learned yet. But it’s exhausting, having to ask them to please stop commenting on what I eat and what I look like. It takes three years, and a final conversation where I go into graphic detail about my eating disorders, for them to understand and stop.

It’s wild going into a mall and realizing that I won’t walk out with a single thing that fits me. It’s frustrating seeing the cute, fashionable, brightly-colored trendy clothes in the front of the store — that only go up to a size L, if that’s even still in stock. They don’t have my size, even though I’m only an XL. They have a plus-size section. When I go over there, there are only dark colors, and print fabrics like something a grandma from the 1960s might wear. And cold-shoulder tops. And graphic tees. Fantastic.

I make all my own costumes for performances and competitions. Not just because I like to do it… but because I don’t have a choice. There are literally zero options out there for me. I can’t even buy a simple tan leotard in my size. The only other option is to drop $500 on a custom-made costume that won’t even look good on me. So I get really good at sewing. But it would be so nice to not have to do it. Just once.

Random strangers will comment on my body on social media. They’ll throw creative insults, like one lady who called me a “mattress” in Spanish. They’ll tell me to lose weight or eat healthier, never knowing that they’re parroting the same lies I used to believe so strongly— that skinny somehow equates to healthy, that it’s just a simple matter of calorie deficits. They’ll see a video of me and a partner winning a dance competition together, and comment how he “handles her body really well,” as if I wasn’t equally responsible for our win and he had to drag my fat ass around the dance floor.

People will give me backhanded compliments. If I say the word “fat” in reference to my body, they’ll say, “You’re not fat, you’re beautiful!” as if it’s impossible to be both, as if I’m not sitting in front of them in my size 18 body. They’ll compliment me if they think I lost weight, but stay silent or express “concern” if they think I’ve gained weight. They’ll talk about their latest diets and how scared they are of getting fat, not realizing that they’re saying their biggest fear is to look like me.

Men treat me differently, too. They want to sleep with me, but not date me publicly. They accuse me of catfishing or change their minds when we meet, even though I have full body pictures on my dating profile. They’ll say I’m too heavy for them to pick up, or that I’m squashing them when we cuddle. I constantly feel like I take up too much space.

But…

There are good things, too.

People say that I inspire them. They say that they began, or continued, dancing because they saw me doing it. They are more adventurous with their clothes because they see me, wearing crop tops and mini skirts.

Because of my experiences, I’m able to create more inclusive classes. I’m a better teacher because I understand which body mechanics and techniques work for all types of bodies, and I can explain adaptations or variations for people with different abilities. People feel safe in my classes.

I form meaningful and diverse relationships more easily. People with shallow priorities expose themselves when they treat me differently. My friends and romantic partners are with me because of the entire package of who I am, not because I’m conventionally attractive. I can go out with these friends and make memories, and the world doesn’t revolve around what I eat. It’s liberating.

I’m so much less fearful. As I let go of my insecurities around being fat, I started to release others, too. I’m not fearful of aging. I’m embracing my wrinkles, more frequently occuring gray hairs, loose skin. I’m learning to enjoy the natural process of bodily change. We’re all just sacks of meat and bone. It’s nice to just… exist.

The energy I used to spend on worrying about my weight, I now spend on knowing myself better. I’ve done countless hours of therapy unpacking various wounds from my past. I’ll spend countless more. There’s so much to my personality I have yet to develop and discover.

I still have tough days, days where I don’t like my body, days where I want to hide. That’s to be expected. Healing, as they say, is not linear. And I’m not only healing my own views, but the ingrained views of generations before me.

But more often than not, I feel comfortable. That feeling I chased for so many years, that feeling of wanting to feel “like myself”, I have it now. I had to accept “myself,” my current self, as she is. And finally, she feels like home.

— Elena “the Rhinestone”

*Quick PS — this blog was intended to be a narrative of my personal journey, not an exposé. If you want to learn more about specifics, you can find a lot of the supporting evidence by searching for Health at Every Size (HAES) studies and principles and intuitive eating (NOT to be confused with intuitive fasting, which is not a real thing… fuck off, Gwenyth Paltrow).*

If you think you may have an eating disorder and you need help, you can reach the National Eating Disorders Association here ❤