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Struggling

I haven’t used this platform in a couple of years, but I feel the need to share, and I guess this is the place to do it. This is my story.

Let me begin by setting the stage. I am 21 years old, going into my senior year of college. I am a long jumper on my university’s track & field team. I am love working out and am very active. I am pursuing a degree in athletic training, and also have a minor in nutrition and fitness. My eating has changed pretty drastically in the past 2-3 years. I eat very healthy. I am very healthy. 

But that’s never enough is it?

I am a skinny girl. I understand that. I have always been skinny, especially growing up. In high school, I didn’t give any thought to what I ate or how much of it. And it didn’t matter. I ate what I liked and reveled in the fact that I could eat it because it wouldn’t change my body. I classified myself as a “skinny girl” and that was all the thought I gave to my body.

I graduated high school and moved into a college dorm room. I was terrified of gaining the Freshman 15 that I was very conscious of what I ate. Due to this, I ended up losing a little bit of weight. I was still a skinny girl. I was still healthy. I still didn’t give much thought to any of it.

Fast-forward to summer after freshman year of college. For some reason, I decided to go on a huge health kick. I devoted my days solely to working out and eating well. I did a lot less snacking. I became very lean. I became a little obsessed with taking pictures of my body in a swimsuit or spandex/sports bras. I analyzed angles and lighting to see what combination made my body look best. I had a fascination with my stomach, and the appearance of my abs. Granted, I didn’t really have abs, but due to my leanness, I did have some definition. At the end of the summer I finally posted my “transformation tuesday” from my summer dedicated to working out. I was very proud of myself. It got many likes, and a lot of comments telling me how great I look and how proud my friends were of me.

It wasn’t true. That post wasn’t my “transformation.” The first photo pictured was me at the beginning of the summer, and it was not very flattering. But it was not very accurate. The picture was taken in bad lighting with a bad angle. It was taken right after I had finished a long run, so my stomach was bloated (your body conserves water with prolonged exercise at an attempt to keep you hydrated). The middle picture was most likely how I looked all along, taken in better conditions, and towards the end of the summer. I was flexing my stomach in it, while the first picture I was totally relaxed. The final picture, my “end result,” was the biggest sham. Yes, I looked the best in it. Yes, I looked good in it. I had manipulated the lighting and angles perfectly to get a picture where I looked incredibly lean with good ab definition. However, it was taken about 3 weeks after my “before” picture. Did my body actually change that summer? Yes. Drastically? No.

Enter sophomore year of college. This is where things start to go downhill. Due to a flare-up in my ulcerative colitis, I had to go on the corticosteroid Prednisone for a prolonged amount of time. Prednisone has horrible side-effects. It makes you incredibly bloated, as well increase your appetite and make you gain weight. I was on Prednisone for about 4 weeks. It wrecked my self-esteem. I felt fat and disgusting. I began counting my calories and working out extra on top of my track workouts. I was eating less than 1800 calories a day, and probably burning close to 2600. And it didn’t do a thing. It was around this time that I realized that there’s more than just one type of “skinny,” and that my skinny wasn’t nearly as skinny as my friends and teammates. My team went to Myrtle Beach for spring break, and for the first time in my life, I was horrified to be in a bikini on the beach. The beach is my happy place, where I usually feel confident because I can show off my body. Not this time. I felt like a whale next to my extremely fit teammates. During workouts on hot days, my teammates would take their shirts off to practice in their sports bras, but I wouldn’t. I was ashamed, and I hated myself for feeling that way. I did my best to put on a confident face and act like I was proud of my body, because hiding it would just make it more noticeable. Eventually my weight sort of leveled out and I gained some of my confidence back. 

That summer after my sophomore year was a little bit better. I worked out because I enjoyed it. I was nowhere near my “transformation” body of the previous summer, but I was more okay with that. Then I had surgery. Due to my surgery, I wasn’t allowed to work out for 2 months. In summer. I about went crazy. I knew since I couldn’t work out, I would have to maintain a good diet to maintain my weight. So when I would have a day where my eating wasn’t perfect, I would feel horrible. Again, I slowly got past that. I was eventually allowed to work out again, and it felt great. I was at peace with my body.

My junior year of college I lived off-campus and mostly cooked my own meals. got very into trying new healthy recipes, and I loved it. My diet evolved into what it is now. I eat mostly vegetables and fruits, with small portions of lean meats like roasted chicken or ground turkey. I genuinely like the foods I eat. Even being 21, I rarely drink (I’ve never been one to drink my calories). And I still work out a lot. I have come to terms with my body. And I love my body. I may not have the perfect genetics that grant me with a tiny waist and big butt, but I’m okay with that. Because that’s all it is, genetics. I have done the right things for my body with exercise and healthy foods. And because of that, my body is strong. My body allows me to be a college athlete. So everything’s good, right?

Mostly, yes. 

But I am still struggling. I can’t pinpoint exactly when it started, but I have developed a bit of a binge-eating problem. It happens when I’m PMS-ing. It’s disgusting the amount of food I eat when on a binge. And then I feel horrible. In the past couple of months, I have gotten better with dealing with it. It doesn’t happen as often, and I am better at accepting it when it does. And I am in a really good place with my body. Because it doesn’t really matter, does it? We all look different because we are supposed to look different. We all have different frames and carry our (necessary) fat in different ways. That is life. I understand that. That is not my problem. 

So here’s my problem: I am damaged. I am not the girl I used to be. I may not have all the characteristics of an eating disorder, but I am haunted like I did. I am so incredibly conscious of everything I put into my body. I am incredibly critical of myself. I punish myself if I eat something “bad.” I have to tell myself over and over that it’s okay if I eat a slice of pie for dessert. I’ve lost sight of what a “normal” diet is. Yes, my diet is incredibly healthy and nutritious, which is good, but not when it makes me feel bad for eating anything that isn’t a healthy food. I dread parties and picnics. I’m afraid I won’t be able to control myself with all the food that’s out. Sometimes when I can’t sleep, I lay in bed and just think about every piece of food that went into my mouth. I calculate how many calories I ate that day, and regardless of how much I worked out, it never seems like enough to tip the scales. I hate it. I don’t want to analyze everything I eat. I miss the old me. The girl who was excited for parties and picnics, because she could stuff her face with buffalo chicken dip and chips, and eat too much dessert, and be happy about it because she ate all her favorite foods. She didn’t think about how bloated she looked after eating. She proudly showed off her “food baby” and laughed about it because she knew it didn’t change her status as a “skinny girl.” She ate what she liked and didn’t think twice about it. She certainly wasn’t plagued with guilt after indulging. She looked at herself in the mirror and though “damn girl” instead of analyzing every flaw. I want to go back to that girl. How do I chase away the thoughts that tell me my stomach isn’t flat enough or that I need to cover up? I don’t want to let this control me anymore. A part of me knows that almost every girl feels this way too, but since no one talks about it I feel like I’m the only one. So this is me speaking out. I am a college athlete in the best shape of my life with an impeccable diet, but I am struggling. I know I can’t be the only one.