I can’t have scales in the house any more.
Why?
Because they are dangerous.
This might seem like a strange statement, but I can get obsessed. There was a time in my life where
I would weigh myself every time I went into the bathroom. EVERY TIME. And I’d get on the scales 3
times, just to make sure the numbers were right.
I would obsessively count calories and make sure I was at a deficit every day. I would spin every
single day, partly to get out of the house, and partly in an effort to burn off the calories from my
enemy: food.
The seed was planted when I was in primary school. For some godforsaken reason we were being
weighed. The girl next in line hated my guts, and when she heard what I weighed - which was
considerably more than she did, being a slim, leggy girl, and she told everyone. I was laughed at.
It was then that I learned to be ashamed of my body.
Fast-forward to secondary school. In Year 9 I came back to school after having a vomiting bug, and
a TA said that I looked well because I’d lost weight. That’s when my brain first latched onto the idea
of bulimia - not that I knew it had a name at the time.
In my early 20s I was finally in control of what I ate as I was at uni and began restricting and purging.
Avoiding social events for fear of having to eat in front of people. Things escalated after a breakup
and graduation,and I went from an 18-20 to a 12, and while social media was thrilled for me, my
self-esteem was rock bottom.
I managed to quiet the demons for a while when I met someone. He came on very strong and
showered me with compliments for the first few months. So much so that I was blind to anything else.
In most relationships you gain a little weight. He liked food, and my weight crept up. It was then I
discovered Slimming World. Combine that with a tendency to obsess over a calorie deficit and a
newfound enjoyment of exercise, and things get very dangerous indeed.
I was within 2lb of my goal weight and in a size 10. And then my life unravelled. I did a factory reset,
went back to Somerset, leaving behind a 5 year relationship and a job I had loved before the rot set
in. It was the right decision as my mental health was suffering to the point where I had finally given in
and started taking medication.
I began to heal and started to enjoy life again, with the help of one of the weirdest humans I have
ever had the pleasure to meet. I weaned myself off the medication. We went on holiday. We made
big plans and I was the happiest I could remember being.
Enter Sepsis.
That was one of the hardest experiences of my life. I nearly died because of a mistake made in a
routine operation. There was a lot of vomiting. Drains in my stomach. Nil by mouth for almost a
month. My muscles wasted, and when I was finally discharged from the BRI, I was practically
skeletal, barely able to walk and with a big dose of PTSD. I had to build my strength up, but I also
needed to gain weight.
Gaining weight to be healthy was a foreign concept to me. It felt wrong. There was a tiny corner of
me that as my weight went up to a healthy BMI once again, was longing to go back to having bony
legs and no curves, to even have a relapse so as to stay thin. It has been hugely triggering. As soon
as I was well enough to be by myself, I started obsessing and restricting again. If I bring scales into
the house, I’ll be further down that slippery slope. Even now, I need to be held accountable for what
I’ve eaten, or I won’t. I’ve gone back to avoiding social situations where I have to eat where possible,
or just coming along and having a coffee or a drink.
Add into the mix learning to love a body that will never be the same again, and you’ve got a tough
task ahead of you. Clothes that used to fit me now sit differently because of the 9 inch scar that starts
at my waist and cuts my abdomen in two. There are days when I cry because I hate my body so
much. They are fewer than they were, but they still crop up every so often. Running has helped,
but I’m not as fast or strong as I was, which gives me more numbers to obsess over.
I have amazing support in the form of wonderful friends, and the very best cheerleader, who has
been by my side through everything the last 20 months has thrown at us.
I will get there.
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