About Me - Part 1
*Reader be warned… this is a long ol’ post and very me me me! Maybe you’ll find it interesting and love it…. Maybe you’ll give up after the first few sentences and if you do – I don’t blame you.
You’ll find a potted version about me here.
This is part 1 of a 3 part mini-series. Pour yourself a cup of tea and enjoy…
When do issues with body confidence and eating start?
When I try to write this blog post about what got me where I am today in terms of my own health, body image and confidence I have to think a long way back.
Teachers can be early influencers
I remember in year 4, we were learning how to calculate the mean, mode and median in maths. In order to do this, the teacher thought it would be a great idea to weigh all of the students in the class, and write the weights up on the board. I distinctly remember the number which came up when she weighed me – 41kg.
I have no idea if that is the ‘right’ weight for a child of 9 years old, but what I do remember is that it was the heaviest weight of all of the girls in my class. I genuinely believe that this is what sparked what would become a near 20 year issue with food, disordered eating, eating disorders and body image.
Now I can say I love my body
Fast forward to now, at the age of 34 years old, I can honestly say that this is true. I have a fantastic relationship with food – in that I don’t have a ‘relationship’ with it at all, and I eat intuitively.
I care for my body and take steps to make sure it is fit and healthy, but it’s no longer an obsession. It now comes naturally to me – freeing me up to spend my time doing things that actually matter, things like spending time with my husband, connecting with my family, seeing friends, reading, cooking, enjoying time in nature – preferably at the beach - doing work that I love and crucially, just living my life.
But it hasn’t always been that way
I first recall having issues with food and the way I looked when I was around 12 or 13. I went to a boarding school, and shared a dormitory with 11 other girls – so comparison was inevitable. I always felt like a ‘big’ girl. I was never rake-thin like the majority of the girls in my dormitory – and remember, this was the late 90’s – heroin chic was IN.
We were all always swapping clothes at the weekends and there were certain dresses – baby-spice style bodycon slips of things – which I couldn’t get in to. When I look back at photos of me now I can see that what was going on in my mind wasn’t real at all. I certainly wasn’t fat, not even ‘big’ – I doubt you’d pick me up in a lineout of any of the rest of my friends.
My early adolescence went much like that of my friends, though I lacked confidence around boys and started my periods pretty late – I think I was about 14. Otherwise I was perfectly normal- incredibly happy at school, reasonably clever and part of ‘the gang’, never one of the cool kids but never bullied or anything like that.
When did my eating disorder start?
My first memory of having a real issue with the way I looked was when I was 16 or 17. I’d been on a school skiing trip, and my ex-boyfriend was there, who by now was ‘going out’ with a girl I considered (at the time) to be a good friend. He made a comment in the airport when we were waiting to fly home – I was eating a mars bar and he said something along the lines of ‘you’re eating again – you are always eating’. I remember him saying that comment so well – and though whether that was his intention or not, he had a bit of a sneer.
I felt ashamed and embarrassed, and I believe that that was the moment that sparked my anorexia. It just so happened that that year was tough for me at school. I’d moved into the lower sixth form, some of my friends had left, new girls had joined and I felt very out of place. I had had friends in the year group 2 years above me who had left the school, and where in years 10 and 11 I had felt very confident and sure of myself, suddenly in year 12 I felt very unsure and out of place.
This place, the school where I had always felt so happy and been so safe suddenly felt so different – like it wasn’t mine anymore.
Obsession with food, and with exercise
I didn’t just stop eating straight away overnight, but I became obsessed with food. I had so many rules about what I would and wouldn’t eat. I wouldn’t eat snacks between a meal. I wouldn’t eat anything fried. I never touched desserts, chocolate or sweets.
I remember going on a family holiday to Spain that summer and everyone was eating Pringles and I was totally focused on the Pringles too – but I was focused on not eating them.
On top of this, I suddenly developed a keen interest in exercise. My old PE teachers will tell you, I was never one for sports or exercise growing up – other than swimming or dancing I’d do anything I could to get out of it – but all of a sudden I was running, going to aerobics glass, getting up early every morning to do my ‘exercises’ – anything and everything I could do to ‘burn’ calories I would do.
I remember coming back to school, into the Upper Sixth form, after that summer and one of the most ‘popular’ girls in my year complimented me – she said how great I looked and asked what I had been doing.
I felt so proud! She’d noticed! She’d said I looked great! This was what I wanted!
And so it continued – I exercised more and more, ate less and less, and inside I was getting more and more miserable. I don’t remember exactly what the turning point was for me – though I do remember showing my Mum and Sister a dress I’d bought and my sister saying how thin I looked.
Getting help for my eating disorder
Maybe my Mum started the wheels in motion to get me help but I’m not sure. I do remember being taken out of school to see a dietitian. It was my Dad who took me – I think he was able to focus more on what we could do to get me better, whereas my Mum would get emotional and want to know why this had happened.
This isn’t a criticism of my Mum – both my parents were amazing – but they handled it in different ways. Perhaps they remember that part differently to how I do – I’ve never really spoken to them about it.
(UPDATE - since this post was first published, I have since asked my Mum to share her memories of this time. You can read them here.)
I would have some time with the practitioner and then Dad would come in for the end of the session. My parents paid for me to see her privately, and then I was given a space on the NHS. Every week Dad would come and pick me up from school and then drive me to my appointment.
Dropping out of boarding school
After Christmas, my parents dropped a bombshell – they had decided to keep me at home as a day student rather than letting me go back to boarding. I guess that’s maybe when I realised how bad it was though I don’t really remember.
It was a horrendous time for all of our family, and I know it put Mum and Dad through hell. Slowly but surely I started to make a recovery, and I can’t thank them enough for all of the support they gave me.
Time for University
It was decided that I needed a fresh start and a clean break, and I was allowed to enroll in University the following September. I was discharged from my NHS treatment and off I went to Uni in Cheltenham – a 3 hour drive from my home.
I was an incredibly naïve new student – as I guess anyone who has spent the past 7 years at a boarding school would be. It shocked me to see a girl in my halls smoking, and though I got involved with ‘university life’ and made friends I was also very diligently doing all of my work, all of the extra reading and studying – I was so used to having to do it that it didn’t occur to me that at University, no one would be checking.
It wasn’t until the end of the first term when we got our marks up that I realised that whether I got 80% or 45% it really didn’t matter – all I had to do was pass.
I went from one extreme to the other – diligent and studious one term to partying, drinking and living a free, fun-filled life the next. I very quickly went off the rails, partying, drinking, sleeping with randoms, doing the bare minimum work I needed to do to get by.
To all intents and purposes I was your typical University student – except I had a secret.
Binge eating and bulimia
While I was doing all of this, I was also bingeing and purging on the regular. I don’t recall it being about my body image at this point – I was still pretty skinny, and even when I did start to put on weight I don’t recall it bothering me – if anything I guess it just cemented the student experience – the ‘freshers 15’ as it is known. I would binge and then purge at least one a day, more often if I could.
I guess it was something I could control?
I actively looked forward to these binges, planned them – I spent so much money on food that would all just be thrown up. I was out of control – but crucially – in my mind at least – I was keeping it a secret.
I was horrified when one night, while I was locked in the bathroom making myself sick, my best friend and one of the older students knocked on the door. Turns out that I wasn’t keeping it a secret, they both knew exactly what was going on.
I remember feeling so ashamed, but also relieved that someone knew – that someone cared I guess. I never had any professional treatment to help me get over the bingeing and purging, and it certainly didn’t stop straight away. It’s a cop out to say, but I think I partly just ‘grew’ out of it.
Living abroad in your twenties
The first long summer came and I got a job working abroad in France as a ‘Keycamp’ courier – a dream I’d had as a child! Turns out I wasn’t the best courier but I did have a brilliant time. My love of drinking, partying, and sleeping with randoms didn’t stop – I even took up smoking at one point – but the bingeing and purging had.
I don’t think that was the absolute end of it – I still had the odd episode over the following couple of years – but it was never that bad again.
I calmed down in my second year of university, and secured a job working abroad, on Hilton Head Island in South Carolina, in my third year.
I loved it! I had the time of my life – I was working in a beautiful hotel, on the beach, with a great group of people – living my best life. I was thriving at work and impressing my managers and making the most of the downtime.
The partying and drinking didn’t stop, but this time we actually had the money to do it! On top of that, we were eating out several times a week – and American restaurants, especially in the South- aren’t exactly known for their healthy offerings or modest servings.
Like the rest of the interns I was friends with, I piled on the weight. There’s no denying when you look at photos of that time now that I’d gotten pretty chubby. The American dress sizes are different to the UK ones though, so it was easy to ignore – plus we were having the times of our life, had year round tans and were having the best time – who cared?!