As an adolescent, my parents closely observed what I ate,
concerned as they were about my growing weight. Nor were they the only ones. Other family
members joined in, as did fellow students. Eventually I felt watched and judged
almost constantly, both for what I ate and the simple fact of my super-sized
body.
I never fully realized how much that impacted me until one
summer in college when I lived by myself. It was pure accident, since I was
living on-campus and other roommates had been assigned to the four-person
apartment, but they never showed up.
It gave me the most incredible sense of freedom.
For the first time since early childhood, I didn’t worry
about hiding what I ate from anyone. If I exercised, I didn’t feel anxious
about someone seeing me jiggle or gasp or turn red and sweaty, or see how my
stomach and chest and thighs got in the way.
And this is the irony. With no one to watch over my weight
or appearance so closely, I did something I had never done before: I
voluntarily started an exercise program. I began cooking and ate more healthy
foods, and while I still had sweets, they were generally homemade.
What a glorious time! I don’t know that I lost weight, but I
grew stronger, and felt better physically and emotionally. I grew hopeful for
the first time that maybe I could actually lose weight.
Unfortunately, my idyll came to an end in September when
three field hockey players moved in. I stopped exercising. My eating habits
slipped. I felt judged simply by their athletic presence. I lost that hopeful
glow.
But I didn’t forget the experience. After I graduated and
moved back to Maine, I got my own apartment as soon as I could, wanting to
taste that freedom again. It was as wonderful as I remembered.
It’s probably no surprise that when I lost weight, I did it
while living on my own, away from other eyes. Nor is it a surprise that I still
struggle with social eating at times because I know I’m being watched, even if
not judged. It doesn’t happen all the time, and it gives me hope that
eventually I will get past that sense, too, and truly feel freedom in what I
eat.
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