Before FA, when I weighed 50 pounds more than I do now, I made up hundreds of excuses for why I couldn’t go places. Most likely the truth was that I couldn’t find anything to wear and felt horrible about the way I looked.
The times I did pry myself off my behind, it took what seemed like hours to get ready. It would start with the mask of makeup and hairspray to try to deflect any attention away from my body. I thought that if I spent enough time on my face and hair, then maybe no one would notice how large I was from the neck down. Then it was off to the closet to put on the “uniform.” I had plenty of couch clothes, but only one or two outfits that I wore to go out. They usually were made up of a black blazer that had to cover my thighs and rear, and black leggings that would suck everything in. I actually did own one pair of jeans, which every once-in-a-blue-moon, especially if I was on a diet, I would try to squeeze into, but I needed a hanger to zip myself up. I felt like a stuffed sausage about to explode. The worst part of this get-up was that I couldn’t use the restroom for the entire outing, because if I did, I wouldn’t be able to zip up the jeans afterwards.
I also cared so much about what people saw on the outside that I would look for people looking at me. If I got second looks with smiles, then it was a great night. If I got no looks, then I was in the bathroom with hairspray and makeup, trying to fix myself up better. If I couldn’t manage to improve the way I looked, then it was a sure bet that if I happened to be dieting, I would break the diet that night. This was truly a sad existence. The pain of going out was greater than isolating and living on my couch. My life got smaller and smaller.
After being in FA for a while and having kept my weight off for some time, I finally developed some self-esteem, probably for the first time. I don’t ever remember feeling confident and good about myself before FA. By weighing and measuring my food, and having a sponsor and fellows to talk to, I finally saw that sugar and flour had poisoned my mind, body, and spirit. The disease sent me the constant message that I wasn’t enough, no matter what I did or didn’t do.
Looking fear in the face, I started to show up to events and tried not think about my looks. I started to get interested in the lives of others. I actually had fun getting ready for an outing. I had “seasonal” clothes that fit appropriately, had choices of what to wear, and I looked okay in all of my clothes. I found out that I could actually wear colors! Putting on makeup was also a new experience, because I was now wearing it only to feel good about myself and not to change who I was.
Getting ready for life is now a privilege and not a chore. It feels good to dress up and look nice. It takes me about half the time to get ready for the day. And the best part is that when I’m getting ready, I am mostly thinking about the people I’m going to get to see. I’m no longer worried about how to hide myself or what I’m going to get to eat there or afterwards. I no longer question whether I am going to have a good time…it is a given, as long as I keep God and others in mind, and replace my negativity with wholesome good thoughts. I am enough, I have enough, I do enough.