***Trigger Warning: Following Article
Deals With Eating Disorders***

“Yeah it’s pretty clear, I ain’t no size two
But I can shake it, shake it like I’m supposed to do”

Meghan Trainor
All About That Bass Lyrics

I have a bigger body. I’ve always been tall (I stand at 6’4”), but I don’t remember being fat until my senior year in high school. While it would remain undiagnosed for another 20 years, this is when I remember my issues with Binge Eating Disorder (BED) starting to impact my life. Additionally, I got pregnant that same year giving birth to my son two months before graduation. I gained 60 pounds during my pregnancy (205 to 265) and never lost my “baby weight.”

As the years ticked by, the scale ticked upwards. I was always starting a new diet to try to lose weight. I’d have some success in the beginning, but success never lasted long, and I’d gain back all I lost plus some. My story isn’t any different from scores of other women and men who have yo-yo dieted. Coupled with an undiagnosed eating disorder plus repressed childhood trauma, my 20s turned out to be a roller coaster ride that came crashing into a wall during my 30s.

After several bad relationships, I made an unconscious decision to get REALLY fat. I got it in my head that my fat would protect me from getting hurt. For a while, this was a semi-truth. The pounds packed on and on until I topped the scale at 515 pounds. I reached a point of absolute disgust with myself. My biggest fear became getting so fat that I wouldn’t be able to leave my house. Then being that person, they have to cut the wall out of her house and forklift her to safety. I obsessed a lot over that scenario.

Three years ago, I got my collective shit together and started researching weight loss surgery options. Two years ago, I had the gastric sleeve procedure and three weeks later, I started seeing my current therapist. In the process of weight loss surgery, confronting my eating disorder, and trauma from the past, I’ve lost a significant amount of weight. However, I’m still “big.”

As of late, I’ve been struggling with body image. I receive compliments, but the image I see doesn’t fit with the compliment. I don’t see the sexy or hot or even beautiful woman I’m told I am. I pick apart a million things that are wrong with me. I compare myself with others berating myself for the imperfections that I see.

Not long ago, I went clothes shopping. I tried on an outfit and immediately wanted to rip it off. “If only I was smaller,” I heard myself saying. But then I made myself stand there and look in the mirror. I mean, look in the mirror. The outfit was cute, and it fit my bigger body well. I turned this way and that and smiled. I ended up taking it home.

Since then, I’ve been trying to look at myself with love. No, I’m not a size two, and I never will be. And sure there are things about myself that I’d like to change. But this body is a good body. It has gotten me through 39 years of ups and downs. Sure it has lumps, bumps, and rolls but that doesn’t mean those are bad things. And I don’t have to be “smaller” to be loved and love in return. There is no magic number for that though I like to think so sometimes.

It isn’t easy, but I’m working on it every day. The number on the scale or the number inside my clothes isn’t the important part, loving myself the way I am is.

If you or somebody you know is struggling with an eating disorder, please contact the National Eating Disorders (NEDA) Helpline at 1-800-931-2237 or text ‘NEDA’ to 741741.