Like many women, I've had a long and complicated relationship with food, my body, and self-image. Growing up thin and strong, I danced (mostly ballet), and I was unprepared for the sudden onset of puberty that instantly changed my 5'3 frame from a lean 120 pounds to a curvy 150 pounds. Now, I understand that in most circles, both social and medical, this would not be considered terribly overweight. But my young brain, sculpted from images in the media and the ballet world, was not having it. I was extremely uncomfortable with myself.
Sweatshirts solve everything?
My weight kept climbing and for a period in high school I wore only sweatshirts as a quick fix. But by my senior year I had had enough. I recklessly decided I could use my willpower to stop eating carbs and anything more than three tiny "meals" a day, and my weight plummeted to 100 pounds. Not shockingly, this was not an easy weight for me to maintain.
Freshman 15 and bulimia.
The long haul to health.
And here we are now.
So for my 30th birthday I'm giving myself the gift of giving no fucks and going out in NYC in a bikini.
The farmers market.
First stop was the farmers market. Most of the people working at the stands would either politely pretend not to notice I was in a bikini or laugh, which was nice. I enjoyed assessing the different eggplant sizes. ;)
Rite Aid wasn't too bad — most people avoided eye contact, and I felt cool holding one of my favorite chemical-laden snacks in the checkout line. Sadly I think that was partly because I appreciated the comfort of having something to hold over my belly.
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