Let’s start at the very beginning…
…a very good place to start, when you read you begin with ABC, when you diet you begin with don’t eat these…. Sorry, I’m a totally Cheesy twonk but I couldn’t help myself.
I love my family, I really do and I’m lucky to have four amazing parents, and as well as four amazing siblings. I genuinely didn’t make a connection between my parents divorce and my weight/ body issues. Now that’s not to say it was their fault, not in any way, shape or form but I associated being loved with being a good girl. Being a good girl meant I was well behaved, studious, took care of my younger siblings and ultimately wasn’t fat. Because fat means you’re bad right? Fat lazy cow. I came to associate being thin with being good and I was failing at it. It was the only thing that I couldn’t get my head round. But anyway I’m jumping a little ahead of myself…
Last week on a FB group someone asked the simple and innocent question of “What weird things did you want to be when you grew up?” I answered first of all with my favourite one, which was to be a magician’s assistant… Not just ANY magician’s assistant but the glorious Debbie McGee. I then went on to answer that I also wanted to be a model (I loved clothes and a programme called Cover Up). I told a friend this and they said I was too fat. I was 6 or 7. It’s the first time I really remember being disappointed in my own body.
Getting changed for PE was a palaver, I had slightly more developed body bits (or chubby little boobies). I once just decided to get changed like the other girls, whipped off my top and got laughed at. Shit like that really lingers.
Fast forward again I’m now 10. I find myself at a diet club. And it is here that I think I’ve found a way to fit in with the other girls. My saviour, my new religion (little did I know it was going to end up more like a cult). I might just not be embarrassed swimming or changing for PE, I might be able to like Netball (I never did but that’s a story of trauma for another time). I might just get to wear that dress that Kylie wore in the I Should Be So Lucky video, that had braces, but I was convinced my back was too fat for. Me and my gorgeous mother started a cycle of being caught in the diet club cyclone for the next 30 years.
I think we’ve seen every bloody reinvention of Slimming World and Weight watchers, from the little and often diets, free foods, bloody red and green days, syns, bastarding points, fucking carob biscuits and bars (it is NOT a substitute for chocolate Carol, it’s fucking brown wax, shove it up your arse Carol), standing on scales and feeling positively sick. I even saw a dietician who graded my food diary (this week I’m giving you D – …. Oh fuck off). I was devastated when I had my thyroid checked and I was normal… Who actually prays they have a permanent medical condition? Well me apparently as it would mean that I wasn’t the failure I thought I was.
It would also lead to a punishing regime of gross substitutes, pills, exercise classes and hating them, fit bits (which I actually still love), Cindy Crawford workouts, yo yo dieting, sure we tried soup diets, grim ping meals and basically a life long battle with food. My friends often joke that I’m thinking about dinner at breakfast… It so true. But it is because I’m trying to plan and plot my food, also I need to know when and where my next meal is coming from!
Anyhoo so there it was I was on the diet train and I only just reached Epiphany Station and got off that bastard locomotive! I don’t intend to get back on. Instead I think I’ll trudge, run, skip, dance or drag my chubby fabulous arse up the road to Body Positivity. Right I’m off to trawl the Internet for a Debbie McGee style sequin fest of an outfit
By the way… DID I TELL YOU THAT YOU LOOK BEAUTIFUL TODAY?
#bodypositive #bodypositivy #BoPo #debbiemcgee #kylieminogue #bodypositivejourney