i may take some heat for this one, as some lady friends/family/acquaintances may feel targeted. however, rather than an indictment, this is a lament. i am sad for my sisters.
in elementary school, all i wanted to do was kick ass. as the velcro sibling, i was attached to my brother & wanted to do everything he did, as well as he did, & he, in his own way, kicked ass. to me, that looked like playing tag until i dropped, learning how not to throw the frisbee backward, & storming the soccer field. now that i think about it, it was soccer's fault. back in the day [can't believe i'm now old enough to write that (*dies a little inside*)], there was no girls' league. the only reason that mine was co-ed? me. i was present, i wanted to play, & because i stood on the field, the otherwise boys' league was now mixed. so what did i learn? i had to let the competition boil my blood & plow right through the kid between me & the ball. if i wanted game time, i had to live the mantra that my mom shouted from the sidelines: "don't let that boy beat you!"
live it, i did. it became who i was, & i raced, tagged, hid from, & sought any kid who would throw down on the playground. at the time, i had no care for boy parts & girl parts. i was me. i was happy. & then we moved.
i found my new environs to be very different from that which i'd left. ultimately, my tomboyish personality had little to no currency, & gender roles were far more important than ever before. this also meant that appearance now mattered. a lot. while living in maryland, my pixie cut had caused confusion; i'd been mistaken for a boy a few times, but i didn't really care. but in pennsylvania, it was cause for derision, & i started to care. in middle school, it got worse, & i endured the all-too prevalent body-shaming, largely because i wasn't "womanly" enough. let me repeat that. i wasn't womanly. i was eleven.
during my teen years, some of my places wouldn't fill out fast enough for my tastes, & others filled out all too quickly. since it was the only meal of the day that i really controlled, i resorted to a school lunch crash diet: veggies to snack on & a lettuce & cheese sandwich. still, i was not the figure i wanted to be. i remember hanging out with some T&F teammates, & the subject of weight came up. one of the girls suggested that i likely weighed in at 110lbs. i corrected her, saying, "actually, i'm 132." her response: "really? but you're so skinny. you weight that much?"
i know that she didn't mean it in a negative way, but as melodramatic teenage girls tend to do, i took it personally. "oh my god... i'm a sophomore... i'm fourteen... & i already weigh... that much..." & since it was said in the context of a track practice, i attached weight to my athletic performance, performance that was waning as i aged. i wish i'd known that my running & throwing struggles were linked to depression, but the fact is that i didn't know it, & i beat myself up for it, time & again.
college was a fresh opportunity, though. i was lined up to run XC for a small but still-technically-D1 school. if i got myself together, i could do this. late august, 1997, i met my new teammates, & my enthusiasm started to die--all but one of the girls were far skinnier & lighter than i. i panicked, overdid it, & pulled my IT band (which, might i add, is one bitch of an injury). my speed began to lag, as my teammates' only improved. i could only see one reason for this: food. thus, i began my second crash diet.
for weeks, i saw myself as nothing but a fatty-fat-fat-fat. my eating regimen quickly became thus: a bagel for breakfast (no jelly, no cream cheese, no butter), salad for lunch, & rice with a little bit of sweet & sour sauce for dinner. my injuries only worsened, & i got sick. one afternoon, i sat in sports medicine (which was, by then, a routine), depressed; i was convinced that my lack of activity was only making me fatter. it was then, after conversation, that one of the PTs suggested that i might have a borderline eating disorder. no one had ever connected me & that phrase before, & i was upset, probably because i knew she was right.
**continued in "weight... just weight (part2: the now)"**
in elementary school, all i wanted to do was kick ass. as the velcro sibling, i was attached to my brother & wanted to do everything he did, as well as he did, & he, in his own way, kicked ass. to me, that looked like playing tag until i dropped, learning how not to throw the frisbee backward, & storming the soccer field. now that i think about it, it was soccer's fault. back in the day [can't believe i'm now old enough to write that (*dies a little inside*)], there was no girls' league. the only reason that mine was co-ed? me. i was present, i wanted to play, & because i stood on the field, the otherwise boys' league was now mixed. so what did i learn? i had to let the competition boil my blood & plow right through the kid between me & the ball. if i wanted game time, i had to live the mantra that my mom shouted from the sidelines: "don't let that boy beat you!"
live it, i did. it became who i was, & i raced, tagged, hid from, & sought any kid who would throw down on the playground. at the time, i had no care for boy parts & girl parts. i was me. i was happy. & then we moved.
i found my new environs to be very different from that which i'd left. ultimately, my tomboyish personality had little to no currency, & gender roles were far more important than ever before. this also meant that appearance now mattered. a lot. while living in maryland, my pixie cut had caused confusion; i'd been mistaken for a boy a few times, but i didn't really care. but in pennsylvania, it was cause for derision, & i started to care. in middle school, it got worse, & i endured the all-too prevalent body-shaming, largely because i wasn't "womanly" enough. let me repeat that. i wasn't womanly. i was eleven.
during my teen years, some of my places wouldn't fill out fast enough for my tastes, & others filled out all too quickly. since it was the only meal of the day that i really controlled, i resorted to a school lunch crash diet: veggies to snack on & a lettuce & cheese sandwich. still, i was not the figure i wanted to be. i remember hanging out with some T&F teammates, & the subject of weight came up. one of the girls suggested that i likely weighed in at 110lbs. i corrected her, saying, "actually, i'm 132." her response: "really? but you're so skinny. you weight that much?"
i know that she didn't mean it in a negative way, but as melodramatic teenage girls tend to do, i took it personally. "oh my god... i'm a sophomore... i'm fourteen... & i already weigh... that much..." & since it was said in the context of a track practice, i attached weight to my athletic performance, performance that was waning as i aged. i wish i'd known that my running & throwing struggles were linked to depression, but the fact is that i didn't know it, & i beat myself up for it, time & again.
college was a fresh opportunity, though. i was lined up to run XC for a small but still-technically-D1 school. if i got myself together, i could do this. late august, 1997, i met my new teammates, & my enthusiasm started to die--all but one of the girls were far skinnier & lighter than i. i panicked, overdid it, & pulled my IT band (which, might i add, is one bitch of an injury). my speed began to lag, as my teammates' only improved. i could only see one reason for this: food. thus, i began my second crash diet.
for weeks, i saw myself as nothing but a fatty-fat-fat-fat. my eating regimen quickly became thus: a bagel for breakfast (no jelly, no cream cheese, no butter), salad for lunch, & rice with a little bit of sweet & sour sauce for dinner. my injuries only worsened, & i got sick. one afternoon, i sat in sports medicine (which was, by then, a routine), depressed; i was convinced that my lack of activity was only making me fatter. it was then, after conversation, that one of the PTs suggested that i might have a borderline eating disorder. no one had ever connected me & that phrase before, & i was upset, probably because i knew she was right.
**continued in "weight... just weight (part2: the now)"**
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