Weight of the World

Closing my eyes today to ignore the young lithe twenty-something women in the front row, I climb the imaginary hill to the beat of Eminem. I spin and spin and spin.

I feel accomplished. I am neither the best nor the worst of the class.

Then that strong voice, the one that never leaves me, speaks “but look at that butt of yours! Why can’t you just put that fork down?”

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I am 16 and the next footstep I take will determine my mood for the day. This ritual has been taking place for what seems like a very long time and I know it well. The scale has become my master.

Binging, purging, and starvation are my way of controlling the beast. I have become 98 pounds and while barely able to maintain daily activities, I am so happy to be small.

I know I will take exactly 6 carrots and a Diet Coke to school for lunch. I will come home with a gallon of ice cream to eat and then purge. I will pretend to eat a few bites of dinner. I will appease my mother who is worried about my shrinking frame by telling her I feel fine.

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Twenty-six and I do not take footsteps to determine my mood. Rather, I am filling every fear of parenthood and insecurity of being less than other Pasadena moms with sugar.  I am 298 pounds and can barely fit into a size 24 dress my mother has brought to me because nothing fits.

I say things to my new friends like “Do you think I’d get invited to more gatherings, if I wasn’t fat?” They look at me blankly because honestly what can you say to that question? 

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Thirty-five and completely obsessed with aging, I return to the daily masquerade. Diet pills and coffee are my daily cocktail and I am over the moon that I actually fit into a size 6. A size 6! Isn’t that what they told the girl on The Devil Wears Prada is fat?  I am a 135 pounds and crazy as a loon.

I am dieting to deal with the chasm in my marriage and resting in the complements from others about my weight loss. Though they ring hollow because what is it that I’ve actually done? I am the same person on the inside. I look great, so they say, but I am empty.

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Rounding the corner towards fifty, I want to be done with this hoedown!

I have come to accept that I am a large woman. I am 5’10” but as the shortest in my family, I am no longer equating tall with fat. I am healthy, within my BMI, and enjoy a cookie now and then.

There is so much more I wish to spend my time thinking about. I want to be a woman that cares more about those that do not have enough to eat, about those who struggle, and about the real Hope of this world.

As I leave spin class, I speak to the voice in my head “thank you for sharing. I know you will be back but for now you need to go! For I have carried your weight for too long now and I do not want to anymore!”

Proverbs 25:27