Julia Bremner talks eating, weight and the struggle to rise above
Just because you’re eating well, doesn’t mean there isn’t a problem.
I was eating healthy and frequently, but that didn’t stop me from constantly thinking about food and its relation to my body. I continually thought about when I would eat next, and what I could eat next. Then after I ate it, I thought more about what I ate. I plagued myself with guilt for anything remotely unhealthy that wouldn’t help me achieve the body I desired.
If you don’t know me well, you wouldn’t even know I worried. I quietly obsessed about my body. I monitored the parts I hated. Every morning, the first thing I would do is get up and stare in the mirror. I followed a pattern of twists and turns looking from all different angles. This would carry on before and after I showered – every single day.
The shocking part is I didn’t even consciously realize this routine existed.
I’m a psychology honors student, and part of my thesis focuses on body image. I study self-objectification and can tell you all the effects objectification can have.
But to my own surprise, I didn’t even recognize how critical I was of my own body and how I was falling into the very patterns I’ve been studying.
Before Christmas, I cued into how much my criticisms affect my self-image. School took a practical turn when I started learning about disordered eating in one of my classes. Even though I was eating well, I learned that my obsessive thoughts and guilt were negatively affecting me.
I would never let anybody else criticize all the things they would change about my body, but somehow, it is okay for me to bull myself in the same manner.
I began to realize how much time I spent thinking about food and fat when I could be thinking about classes, careers, friends and family.
Every diet company makes us believe we have the power to be thin, and when we fail, it is our fault. But here’s the thing: just like your height, shoe size, and skin color; your weight is genetically determined. Your weight is another piece of your genetic make up that is pre-determined and very resistant to change. So who is really the failure? Every single woman who is unsatisfied with her body? Or the society that teaches her to feel this way?
I’ve spent time reading books about other women who have made this same realization. I learned that the only person these minor body flaws were affecting was me. I realized that when I die, I hope people will talk about things I accomplished, and positive qualities I held, rather than the size of my waistline. Somehow I don’t think my inability to lose my belly fat will be mentioned in my obituary.
Since these (and a few other) realizations, I’ve spent more time eating what I want, when I want it, and more time being happy and comfortable in my own skin.
When I look in the mirror in the morning now, I smile at my reflection. I no longer let the number on the scale or the size of my love handles determine my happiness. This is the body I will have for the rest of my life. It is not the body you see on magazine covers. But it is my body and it completes who I am. In order to fully love myself, I must learn to love every part of me.
I’ve by no means completed this journey, and my bad days still happen. But now I can recognize my own bad days, and I can intentionally ignore the mirror so that I don’t bully myself.
And once I’m feeling strong again I can go back to the mirror and smile at the smart, strong, and beautiful woman staring back at me.
