My relationship with food and how it has changed

Written by Amy Bridges

“You would be so pretty if you just lost weight,” was a sentence I heard a lot, as early as 6. My relationship with food has always been complicated, food was my comfort and how I showed or thought of love and my enemy all at the same time. I always worried about my weight because everyone else was making it apparent. I wasn’t an obese child but I was on the chunkier side and it was always pointed out.

               My relationship with food was mostly comfort so when someone would make a comment or tell me I needed to go on a diet (yes at 6), I would comfort eat. My grandmother used to put so much love into her food and so I associated food with comfort and love (and still do). So, I would be comforted with something as simple as toast with butter because of my memories of her putting love into everything she made.

               When I was in the second grade a friend of mine taught me that if I just ate a couple of crackers a day it would stop my stomach from hurting but I would lose weight. I saw results within the first week and this is where my relationship with food got complicated. I would slowly lower the portions of food I was eating and there would be days when literally all I ate was a couple of saltine crackers. This continued off and on into high school and into my 20’s. I would eat just crackers and lose some weight, something would happen to trigger me and I would need comfort so I ate and then the vicious cycle would happen again.

               I continued on this cycle and all anyone noticed was that I was looking great and losing the weight, and that was all that seemed to matter. So, I continued. As I got older, I forgot about the crackers and just didn’t eat. Although I think my grandmother figured it out at some point because no matter if I had told her I had just eaten or not she would make sure I would eat again anyways. She also wouldn’t leave the room until I ate making sure I didn’t hide it anywhere.

               As I got older clothes were a big trigger. As puberty hit and my body changed and I fluctuated in weight clothes didn’t fit right and would trigger me into not eating to fix the problem. As a teenager alcohol got added to the mix. This is where I learned that the crackers were necessary. I was at a friend’s house and while on a bad week and not having eaten anything in two days I started drinking. Needless to say, they found out really quick what was happening and forced me to eat. After that they made sure that they made something I liked so they knew I would eat it. From then on they were very aware of what I was and wasn’t eating.

               Through some hard conversations and having to learn to love myself I have slowly changed my outlook on my body at the age of 33. While I still have bad days, they are far from as bad as they were. I started with telling myself one thing I liked about myself and then it moved to two things and so on, and while it was gradual it worked. I also realized that it was the clothes and not me that were the problem. Now that I have stopped judging the number on the tag and just looking at clothes that fit, I feel a lot better about myself. I am also triggered a lot less by a pair of pants that shrunk in the wash.

               One big change I made that helped my relationship with food is to change how I see it. Food is no longer the thing that makes me gain or lose weight it is a moment of enjoyment. I have taken the feelings of love and care my grandmother left me with when it comes to food and made it my view. Now I will only eat things that I enjoy, while it can be a bit difficult at some points it means I will eat it. I have certain foods that are comfort but I have learned that it is okay and moderation is okay. As I continue to struggle with what I know now was a mix of anorexia and binging at the same time I am getting better. I am still fluctuating in weight but I am happy with either direction it lands. I have found happiness in my still chunkier size but I have learned it doesn’t define who I am and if society doesn’t like it well that’s their problem not mine. I no longer starve myself but I still have bad days and still have the urge to. But I just keep telling myself that it is progress and not perfection that I am striving towards.