I don’t like to weigh myself because numbers are depressing. When I was in high school I ranged from weighing 110 lbs to 120 lbs. I was super skinny. People used to ask me if I ate. And I did eat, I was just anxious all the time and eating was a challenge. I never had an eating disorder but I did vomit bile in the mornings during my senior year at F.H. LaGuardia High School before I went off to school. Well, actually that’s not how the routine went exactly. I’d wake up, feel like my heart was going to explode out of my chest, and I was scared to open my eyes. But I made myself do it. I was immediately nauseated by the influx of (what I didn’t know then was) cortisol and stress hormones. I threw up bile until my stomach settled. Then I ate oatmeal, which my mom made me and I did mindfulness meditation guided by Jon Kabat-Zinn where he told me how to be a mountain. With Jon’s guidance I was able to face the day. In college I gained 15 lbs, except not in Freshman year, it was in Sophmore year, when my Katrina’s mother would send us brownies frosted with chocolate frosting.
This was supposed to be about pants.
Anyway, after college I eventually had children, and the weight never went away. I’ve become attached to elastic pants. I have these fancy yoga/dress pants and I wear them every day, because they are more comfortable on my belly. I’ve never had a belly in my entire life. And now, I can’t get rid of it. I want my pants to be smaller. I have started doing Tae Kwon Do and I walk five miles a day. I hope that I can buy pants that don’t showcase my belly. But I blame anxiety and depression for fucking up my metabolism.