Please don't earn your turkey.
There was about a two year span of time in which I tracked, counted and earned nearly every single calorie that went into my mouth. Similarly, I tracked and counted nearly every calorie expended as recompense for what I was about to eat. I’ve counted potato chips, measured rice and pasta, parsed out bits of candy and declined countless portions of food because it was over the allotment.
I logged the mileage of every run, walk, and even occasionally, shoveling snow, in order to mentally forgive myself any indulgence. At the worst of it, an “indulgence” was anything over 1200 calories in a day.
How did I get there?
As with most of us who struggle with weight and body image, it’s layered and complex. I began running in the summer of 2012 and over the course of that first year started to see noticeable changes to my physical self. Losing weight wasn’t necessarily a reason that I started running but as a mother of two who never lost the “baby weight”, I wasn’t necessarily opposed to it either.
My entire life, I felt fat. I was never a small person and I remember jokes about my body when I was young. Later, in adolescence, I was a cheerleader…but I was the base. The strong, hefty girl who threw little wood sprites up in the air. I was a solid girl. Thick thighs.
In high school and college there were a couple of times when my weight severely plummeted - both notable times were emotionally loaded and stress related. They were also very brief, and I bounced back to an ample booty in no time. It’s interesting to notice in retrospect, though, that this struggle with my weight and body image is not a new thing. It’s been with me, maybe always.
From late 2013 through most of 2015, it was different though. I had started running, noticed these changes in physique and it became a lifestyle. I was getting divorced. I was dating. I was getting tons of feedback from my friends and family. I was getting noticed.
In some ways it was exhilarating. In other ways it was completely self-destructive.
Being thin, and by 2014 I was really, truly, by definition, thin, is currency. We live in a society where one of the worst things a woman can be is unattractive and this is especially true if she’s “fat”. I had never moved through the world with the social capital of being thin. It felt like value. It felt like it made me valuable.
I was at a point in my life where I felt like a phoenix rising from her ashes but I can see with more clarity now that I was still beholden to self-loathing and falling prey to the expectations of others. It just looked better in jeans than it had previously.
Over the past couple of years, I’ve gotten away from the obsessiveness of my intake/output. I don’t have a calorie tracker on my phone anymore. I run when I want to run, not when my caloric intake demands it, and I never count shoveling snow as a workout. I’ve fallen in love and gotten married again, and I often joke that this level of happiness has lots of calories. Some of the weight has come back. My thighs are thick. It’s not easy.
My mind immediately wants to go to that place of control and tracking and earning my food. I fight this urge. I know I could go back to working out relentlessly. To counting what I eat. To measuring out every portion. What I’d rather focus my energy on, though, is allowing myself to just be. To celebrate my health, and strength, resilience and glorious imperfections.
I share this for those who need to also hear this: you don’t need to earn your food. You don’t need to earn your value through what the number on the scale say or what the size on your jeans is.
I still love to run and I probably will tomorrow. I love to hike and ride my bike and swim with my kids and practice yoga. I also LOVE to eat. This Thanksgiving I am thankful for the opportunity to do ALL of those things with a full heart because, and when, I choose to. No conditions. No value added.
I wish the same for you, and so much peace in the skin you’re in.
The first Thanksgiving after my divorce I ran somewhere around 16 miles in 72 hours, solely because I was celebrating with cheese-laden pasta dishes and cocktails with friends. It’s been a journey over the last few years to realize I don’t need to earn my turkey. You don’t either.
If you are struggling with your relationship with food or with your body, a good place to start exploring resources is ANAD or NEDA. You can also reach out to the mental health professional of your choice.
