This is something I have always been aware of. It started in my early teens. Body image + teen girls = keen awareness. Having a brother who could eat 10 million calories a day and not gain an ounce was hard. I wasn't overweight as a child but I was very aware that I could gain weight so I was always hyper aware of what I ate. I also exercised even back then.
When I was 21 1/2 I fainted and landed on my chin. Unlike in the movies my faint was not a ladylike slow flop, hand to brow, landing on a bed of feathers. I landed on a puddle of dog pee. I had been feeling faint but decided I would not sit down on the pavement near the pillar I stood beside because some stupid dog had just peed there. That was OK because landing in it was so much more desirable. This unladylike faint resulted in my knocking out a FRONT tooth. Not a pretty sight. I also took a chunk out of my bottom lip. The hospital did nothing about that saying it would mend better if left alone. Today you can't see a scar. My dentist did a piss poor job of making me a front tooth crown a few days later. I fainted on a Friday and had just started seeing a nice young man who had asked me to go out with friends to the pub. I went but I didn't smile once!
Oh, the reason I fainted was because I hadn't eaten in 3 days (but I did drink water - what a bloody idiot) and I'd just got back from London (on the hot and lacking in air circulation tube) and I fainted outside of the tube station waiting for my lift home.
I did end up getting my front tooth replaced with a slightly better crown just before I got married (not the the boyfriend mentioned before). I found out that the knock had, in effect, killed off my other front tooth and that that tooth would have to be 'replaced' at some point too. After moving to the US I got both teeth fixed and I was very fussy so they were done several times (they are front teeth, after all) and I was very happy with the way they looked and matched my original front teeth.
After that fainting episode I started eating. The stupid thing was that I wasn't even overweight but was still starving myself. Didn't all women do that?
After having 2 children and not losing the 'baby weight' entirely I decided I needed to do something about it. I had moved to the US (when they were young) and the portions here are insane. After a while I got fed up with my weight and started to watch my eating. I also went TaeBo crazy. I developed what is termed anorexia athletica. I would never miss a day. I had to have breast surgery (to remove a benign tumour) and was told not to exercise on the day of the surgery or for 2 weeks after (and we're talking about a woman who worked out even when in labour and never missed a day of workouts during my 2 pregnancies). What did I do? I did double workouts for a couple of days leading up to the procedure and then felt fine the day after the procedure so worked out anyway. To hell with the doctor's advice. Ha! I didn't split the stitches so I carried on.
I ended up losing all the aforementioned baby weight and more. But I also became chemically imbalanced and started to have a lot of episodes of sinus tachycardia and that seemed to trigger panic attacks. Around the time my husband had to have knee surgery and I was not doing well. I was starving myself and was down to 108lbs which, for my height, should be OK but I have big boobs so who knows. I also have pretty solid muscle mass so I can weigh that and look 'normal'.
I ended up not being able to sleep anymore. I hit a really low point and left my husband at the hospital and wasn't there when he came out of surgery. I will never forget the feeling of letting him down. He was OK (he claimed) but I wasn't. I had gone home (I don't know why I drove home when I felt like I was climbing out of my skin plus I had the children in the car with me - what a fucking idiot). I called the hospital later (when I had calmed down) and took the children back to see their dad. I was still feeling like shit, though. Having to do everything, when I as having almost constant sinus tachycardia, was scary as shit. I eventually told my husband that I couldn't do it anymore and finally went to talk to a doctor. I was given anti-depressants and told I would probably feel worse before I felt better. Since I wasn't sleeping,wasn't eating, my heart was constantly racing and I was feeling like death, I couldn't imagine feeling worse. So I didn't take them. A week later I went to see another doctor. He gave me anti anxiety meds and told me to take a half dose of the anti-depressant. I started that day because, frankly, I didn't want to continue with the way things were. I was feeling a little better after the first tiny dose of Xanax. Took that (very small doses) for 2 weeks then stopped them and just took the half pills of Zoloft. They gave me nightmares from hell but I was sleeping for 3 or 4 hours at a time so felt a lot better. I went off Zoloft (cold turkey) 3 months later, feeling fine. The doctor I'd seen had left so I didn't see that point of going back. It's NOT a good thing to get off anti-depressants cold turkey.
Got pregnant again. Gained weight. Shocker. Not an abnormal amount but enough. Felt super. Worked out throughout, once again.
Then I stopped working out. I have never eaten huge portions or eaten cakes etc. My achilles is chocolate. Just plain old chocolate - not cookies or biscuits. I also like savoury. And not a big veggie eater - goes right through me. Also have had gastric issues for a long time so I have to be careful what I eat anyway.
So, this past May my father had a bad throat. He was taken into hospital (in Spain) and was treated like a piece of shit by the butchers there. He developed a flesh eating bacteria and double pneumonia. All this after going in with a slightly more complicated form of tonsillitis. During the middle of his stay there I made a vow to not eat another meal till he was able to eat again. No full meals. Oh and to only eat one thing a day till he was able to eat again. I had also started lifting weights again (I have big boobs so need to keep my back and shoulders strong). I started doing cardio on the treadmill. Started out small (doing 30 mins on level ground). Also went in to renew my passport (and the children's) so we could go to Spain to help my father during what they said would be a very long and slow recovery. The thing is he never did recover. And he KNEW he was going to die. They told us, to the very last 2.5 days, that he would recover. But he didn't. He'd been so strong and had been cutting down huge tree branches (with a saw) on the day he went into hospital.
He died. And there's this vow.
Went to Spain. The passport came too late. We didn't get to say goodbye or anything. I did talk at him on the phone (because he couldn't talk). He cried. I haven't stopped.
So, went to Spain. Took my weights. Who does that?! Did not miss a day (use them every other day). Also swam as my cardio. Ate protein. Took all my supplements. Drank fat free milk.
Went to England after leaving Spain. Visited the site where my father has been laid to rest.
It's now December. I stepped up the workouts when we got back at the end of August. I needed something to take my mind off what had happened. I now do 8 miles a day on a steep incline (divided into 2x96 minutes sessions). And I do 90 mins of weights every other day on top. When I need to do other things I exercise through the night (that is the nature of AA) so that I don't miss a session. I eat protein once a day. That's it. I know that that also has a name but I am not thin. I have very nice muscle mass. My HR is the best it's ever been. My BP is brilliant. Frankly, I am not even hungry most of the time. I still drink fat free Lactaid.
My husband and children (and brother, sister-in-law, cousins) tell me I need to eat. I can't. I made a vow. I know it's fucking stupid now because, yes, I know, my dad wouldn't have wanted me to do this. Apparently the not eating is a bigger concern than the hours of exercising. I'm not stupid. I know I should eat and I used to keep saying that I have plenty of reserve so it didn't matter. The problem is that I don't anymore. I know I should eat and I do but it's not enough and it's certainly not balanced. I worry I will gain weight. I don't want to break that stupid fucking promise. But I feel fine. I realize that probably won't last forever, though.
So, I am stuck between a rock and a hard place. But I have never felt better and I look OK.
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