Chapter 1: The Awakening

I can trace back to the moment I first recognized my thinness. It was after my ninth-grade exams, a period when I hardly ate due to the stress of studying like many typical teens. Food wasn't on my mind until that moment. My meals were usually dictated by cravings, and I had the freedom to eat what I wanted, whenever I wanted.

Raised in a household that primarily emphasized healthy choices, I never faced criticism for indulging in treats like Oreos, nor did I receive negative comments about my looks (at least not that I recall). Until I turned 15, I didn’t give much thought to my diet or body shape. I was an average-sized kid, engaged in some fitness, and taller than many of my peers.

One evening, while reaching for peanut butter, my mom casually remarked, "You know you’re going to gain all that weight back." Confused, I thought, "What weight?" I assumed I just needed a belt because my clothes felt loose. Thin? What did that even imply?

The comments continued.

“Doesn’t it feel great to be thin now?”

“150 pounds is a healthy weight.”

“This outfit works well because it doesn’t emphasize your muffin top.”

And thus began my tumultuous journey with body image and the quest for the perfect diet.

I immersed myself in magazines about maintaining a slim figure and joined a gym to stay fit. My mom and I teamed up to discover the best diet for weight control, which inadvertently led to binge-eating episodes as I struggled to manage my hunger. I was conditioned to view hunger negatively, and deviating from my planned meals felt like a failure. I even called my mom one day from a school payphone, crying about having eaten a muffin.

The struggle persisted into my 20s and 30s. If a diet existed, I tried it.

It’s important to clarify that I don't blame my mom—she did the best she could. She grew up in an era of even harsher expectations and carries her own scars regarding body image. If I could alleviate her struggles, I would. It pains me to think she may not have seen herself as the beautiful person she is.

She didn't cause my issues; they stemmed from the path my soul chose. All the messages and conditioning I received were part of my journey. I hold no resentment.

From an early age, I observed her checking her reflection, assessing how flat her stomach appeared, always seeking that elusive feeling of being thin, often on a diet even during my childhood. It's no surprise that I internalized these ideas.

To this day, I grapple with the critical voice in my mind, which constantly critiques my food choices, body shape, and overall appearance. The "Committee" in my head debates the merits of my meals, scrutinizing every bite and its impact on my body.

Now, I choose a sugar-free lifestyle, breaking free from the binge-eating cycle that has long plagued me. Treats and sweets have often been stumbling blocks, and I spent years caught in cycles of deprivation and calorie counting, only to confront the same urge to overindulge.

Since my 30s, my weight has remained relatively stable, which is the irony of my efforts. I was never a supermodel or overweight—just average. At times, I felt stronger and leaner, while at other moments, I felt a bit fluffy. I can tell when I’m in control and when I’m not, especially when my clothes start to feel snug.

The dialogue in my mind remains the same: What’s healthy? What’s detrimental? Did I do enough today to stay on track, or will I need to compensate tomorrow? How many times did I "fall off the wagon" this month compared to how much consistency I’ve built?

What even constitutes the right path?

I strive to manage the Committee:

• I nourish my body with wholesome foods, understanding the toll junk food takes on my nervous system.
• I curate my social media to avoid diet culture traps.
• I limit trying on multiple outfits based on what conceals my perceived flaws.
• I discarded my scale long ago.
• I resist comparing myself to past versions of me when I was leaner, regretting not appreciating that time.

I refrain from discussing my food choices with my mom. While she never shamed me overtly, I always sought her approval, hoping to appear as the "good girl" adhering to my diet. That chapter of my life is buried, and I now forge my path.

Despite my efforts, the relentless desire to be thin feels inescapable. I often compare my struggle to that of Sisyphus, but instead of a boulder, I find myself grappling with a plate of food.

In moments of reflection, I wonder, "How do I take my own advice?" I know what I should do, yet reality often diverges from that.

The instant I bite into a carrot and feel comfortable in my skin, my psyche shifts, whispering, "Time to eat without restraint." This feels like a survival mechanism, compelling me to avoid hunger, and I find myself back on the hamster wheel.

I am determined to break this cycle; the treadmill of perfection is exhausting.

I aspire to embrace my body at any size while still wanting to be lean. I understand the steps necessary to achieve my goals, but I also indulge in human cravings, like enjoying pizza occasionally.

Ultimately, I believe both can coexist.

If I can maintain control 90% of the time, I consider that a success. Perfection is unattainable, and perhaps it’s time to stop striving for it. After 25 years of hoping to reach my ideal, it’s clear that this approach isn’t working.

I’m learning to listen to the Committee while silencing negative self-talk. I aim to comprehend what makes me feel strong and energized, fueling my body accordingly. I recognize that sugar disrupts my well-being, so I avoid it entirely. The constant battle against temptation isn’t worth it, leading me to abstain.

I’m committed to being gentle with myself when I overeat and avoiding the restrictive habits of my past. I’m learning to identify what feels like enough for my body and to address emotional needs without resorting to food.

Will my struggles with body image ever disappear? Perhaps not. I recognize their presence, but engaging with those thoughts rarely yields positive outcomes. I won’t be remembered as the "world’s best dieter" after I’m gone.

As long as the Committee persists, I’m learning to tune their chatter into background noise, amplifying the volume of self-love and acceptance, even after experiencing moments of overindulgence.

Will I ever achieve that lean, sculpted physique? It’s uncertain. Yet, I often reflect on the progress I’ve made in reducing the judgment tied to those thoughts and the weight of this journey. I aspire to reach my goals on terms that are healthy, realistic, and balanced.

The endless chatter about achieving thinness may never cease, but I can rewrite the narrative, crafting a more compassionate story for my inner teenager who deserves it.

Chapter 2: The Path Forward

In the video "Is your 'Roman Empire' being THIN?" we explore the psychological impact of societal pressures related to body image and thinness. This thought-provoking content delves into the struggles many face and offers insights into fostering a healthier relationship with food and self-acceptance.