Dream Come True

Photo by Delfina Cocciardi on Unsplash

By Erin Deborah Waks

TW: weight loss, eating disorders, dieting

When I was younger, all I wanted was to be thin. To lose weight. Specifically, to lose weight without trying, to wake up one day to find my normal clothes simply didn't fit anymore.

While getting dressed this week, I remarked that all of my go-to clothes seem to be, well, too big. I looped jeans through belt hoops to get them to stay up, had to slip belts onto trousers I normally wear without, and even pinned a skirt up with a safety pin so as to avoid showing my entire midriff to my rather conservatively dressed office. 

In other words, I’ve dropped a dress size as I always hoped I would, despite eating more and working out far less than I did when I was actually trying to lose weight. 

And yet my response appears to be of nonchalance, disinterest and even frustration.

I know if I’d read something like this back in the old days, it would’ve further propelled me into a spiral of thinking thinner equals better, and doing everything in my power to drill that Kate Moss mantra into my head: nothing tastes better than skinny feels. It’s why I’ve hesitated to write this; I have no intention of encouraging this sort of competitive, toxic mindset. There’s a reason I won’t accompany these thoughts with a recent photograph of myself. 

So I’m switching up the narrative instead. 

Yes, I cook healthy meals. I eat my protein, try to squeeze in something green every day, and avoid too much fast food too often. I am religiously committed to Pilates, love to go to yoga, and favour a quick jog over binge drinking or eating when feeling overwhelmed.

But I also have a sweet treat every afternoon at my desk. I put oat milk in my coffee instead of always drinking it black, will have a glass of wine or cocktail (or two, or three) on a night out, skip planned workouts to lie in bed and read a book and have discovered I will contentedly inhale a proper burger with all the trimmings - something by teenage self would look upon with equal amounts of shame and jealousy. 

And I don’t seem to care about the impact it’s had on my body. In fact, it’s more annoying than anything; yeah, yeah, I hear you say, poor skinny girl whose jeans are too loose. But in reality, I love my wardrobe, and to buy a whole new one is an expense I can’t endorse right now.

I’m not telling you to diet so you can enjoy being thin. I’m also not telling you that if you stop dieting, you’ll immediately drop the pounds. I’m saying that my body wasn’t the problem. 

I never thought I’d say this, but my dream of being thinner came true. And - honestly - I don’t give a sh*t.