My relationship with food remains.. complicated, to say the least. My weight fluctuatea depending on how diligent I am on my diet, which is usually some version of Weight Watchers. I gained a LOT of weight my first year of college (unless the freshman 17 is now standard). I came home for the summer and legitimately, nothing fit except for stretchy pants. I immediately went back on Weight Watchers because it was the only frame of reference I had for "being healthy". There was no in between for me - I was either eating until I was sick or dieting and cataloging every morsel that went into my mouth.
|At my heaviest weight, 171 lbs|
|At my lightest weight, about 138 lbs|
I've gained a lot of perspective regarding food since become more active, especially through running. I've learned that good food will make me feel better, and that eating junk will cause my stomach to revolt during a run. When I'm in a good mindset, food has a purpose. When I'm not, it's something I use to stop me from getting bored, or to comfort me when I'm upset. I am always jealous of people for whom a cookie is just a cookie. I wonder if I'll ever be able to live my life without mentally calculating how many calories I've consumed. And I question whether I can stop sabotaging myself, because working out five or six times a week doesn't matter if I'm constantly eating candy and cookies. I wish I knew how to let food just be food. I wish I could stop hating my body and embrace it because it allows me to run half marathons, and to climb 5.10's at the rock gym. Mostly, I wish I could just feel good enough.
Sorry to get all heavy on you. I'll try to return to my usual sarcasm and humor with the next post!