TIPPING THE SCALE

‘I feel like a fat, disgusting pig. Look at my ass; I should have WIDE LOAD written right across it.’

Sound familiar? It certainly does to me. I have uttered those words and many more like them so many times in my life that I have lost count, but for once those words didn’t come from my mouth; they came from the mouth of a young girl I overheard on the subway.

‘Look at my rolls! I can’t believe I let myself get this bad!’ She complained to her friend, as she grabbed her non-existent belly.

‘I know, like, I have to get back on my diet this week.’ Her friend replied.

So why did this shock me? These two girls were barely into their teens and were so thin that they could be considered borderline anorexic; when they stood up from their seats my mouth nearly dropped to the floor at the sight of how painfully thin they were. I wanted to stand up and shake some sense into them, but I was afraid I would snap their brittle bones if I did. I kept my mouth closed, but thankfully the woman beside me did not.

‘You girls have no idea what you’re doing to yourselves, do you?’ She shook her head. She was a woman in her late forties with a strong body, incredible posture and immaculate hair; she was not what society would deem beautiful, but something about her was so commanding that I couldn’t help looking at her.

‘I hope you’ll learn.’

Those words have stuck with me all week. I remember her so vividly because she possessed the things that I have wished for all my life: self assurance, acceptance, wisdom, self love, but it was when we both stood up that I realized just how honest her words were. This woman, strong and healthy though she was, would be considered overweight by our society’s standards. She stood about five foot six or seven and weighed in at probably 150 pounds and I caught myself thinking that a) she was the most attractive woman I had seen in ages, and b) that I have been horrible to myself all of my life.

I have been on a diet since the age of fifteen, when I was told by my modeling agent that I was too heavy at 125 lbs, and for the last twenty years I have struggled and fought against the scale, the refrigerator and the mirror, and I have beaten my body up so badly that it is now finally starting to retaliate. The health problems I am experiencing right now are a direct result of me alternating between starvation and decadence and of treating my body like an enemy instead of a companion. I can’t remember a day when I didn’t look in the mirror and think the words Fat Disgusting Pig, and I certainly can’t remember the last time I felt comfortable in my own skin, in fact I am not sure if I ever have.

So why are we refusing to learn? Why do we look for faults and rolls of fat instead of celebrating our curves? Why do we idolize so-called stars like Nicole Richie and Victoria Beckham when it is so obvious that they have crossed over into the realm of Anorexia? Is it really considered sexually alluring to have bones jutting out of our chests, and to look more like pre-pubescent boys than women? What kind of message are we sending out to the younger generations? That it’s okay to treat your body as badly as you want, and that as long as you’re a size two everything in your life will be perfect? What kind of sick logic is that?

I don’t have a choice in the matter anymore, I have to get healthy because my body has given me an ultimatum; treat me nicely or forget about ever being able to have children. I have to get healthy because I truly want to live a balanced life that doesn’t consist of yo-yo dieting and self sabotage. I threw away the scale years ago but the mentality remained, and now it’s time to let that go as well. I suppose I should consider myself lucky in the fact that I have been faced with this heath issue; it is giving me the chance to let go of old patterns and even older demons, and it is proving that the old adage is still true: we are NEVER too old to learn.