There’s not really a nice little bow to sum up this week’s posts. I left treatment in May because I moved to Texas. I had reached a healthy weight for my body size—still on the low side of healthy, but healthy nonetheless—but I had only been constant in that weight for a couple months. Although I had finally found success in treatment and weight gain, I was still struggling with my body imagine—still convinced that I wasn’t thin enough (the difference now was that I accepted it: this was my body now for better or for worse). I moved down here and knew that I would have times where I was triggered to return to my old habits but I also knew that I had all the tools I needed to overcome it. I would keep our home scale-free and would rely on healthy eating and healthy exercise and continue working on listening to my husband's truth about my body rather than relying on what I saw in the mirror to dictate what I could eat or how I could feel. I had no idea that a test of my recovery would come so soon. There’s nothing more trying for a recovering anorexic than to get pregnant (especially unplanned). I had finally accepted my body for what it was and then BOOM! time to pack on the pounds and there is nothing you can do about it. I have gained alot of weight this pregnancy—probably a mix between really “letting myself go” and focusing more on the baby’s health than my own weight. I’m not eating junk food every day but I have allowed myself to do things that were always so hard for me: eat fruit, drink juice, have milk. I would be lying to you if I told you that I wasn’t terrified of the post-baby body. I am confident that I am strong enough to lose the weight in a healthy way but I am also being realistic that Ed has a pretty easy in back into my life. I always knew that I could never be on a diet again and yet here I am already thinking about how I’ll lose the weight. I stare at my “skinny jeans” and get honestly angry at the possibility of me not fitting into them again. I guess the difference now is that I’m telling people about it—I refuse to go through this alone because going through it alone the first time is what got me in the pickle I was in. My husband knows how I feel and he knows the signs to look for. The one thing that is interesting is that for the first time in my life, I can look at pictures of myself and think, “I looked good.” Note that a few sentences ago, I called them “my skinny jeans.” Well, 10 months ago when I was wearing them, I still felt like they were too big. Now I look at pictures from May and think, “I looked good” (and get this, sometimes I even think I looked too thin…that’s progress like you wouldn’t believe). If nothing else, I can finally let myself trust those around me—why did I constantly think that everyone was lying to me and telling me I looked fine just because I felt so big? So although I AM scared about the post-pregnancy journey, I think I’m finally ready to accept that when my husband tells me I look good, I need to listen to him. Because clearly I don’t see the same thing he does.
I started reading this book last week and it’s been pretty insightful. It’s written by two women who have struggled with eating disorders and how those experiences relate to pregnancy. Nevertheless, I think it has some good insights for any women dealing with body image issues that come with pregnancy.
So I guess I don’t know how to wrap up these posts. I don’t know how I’ll handle the post-pregnancy body. I don’t know if I’ll ever fit back into my old wardrobe. All I know is that I’m hoping that, despite the fact that I was best friends with Ed for so long, my sweet little boy’s face will tell me that I am so very good enough—flabby tummy, stretch marks and all.
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