Weight Gain and Image Insecurity, Part 2: Identity Crisis

I was a little nervous writing my last post on image issues associated with weight gain; I was very afraid as coming off as shallow. No, looks are not everything to me, or even very much at all, but it's one of those sniggly little things that ED does to try to throw a wrench in the gears of recovery. I had some great responses to the post, though, and wanted to do a follow up post with some more thoughts on the issue.

I think that one thing that is important for people who may not have experienced an ED to remember is that weight gain can really make your body look/feel foreign for a while, until your brain has a chance to start recognizing the "new you." (See the lowdown on body image vs body schema here). I think that many of my failed stabs at recovery have resulted from putting on a little weight, then freaking the hell out and relapsing because I just did not give myself enough time to adjust to how my "new body" felt.

In that same vein, if someone has been dealing with an ED for years, or even decades, and especially if their ED started in early adolescence, it is entirely possible that someone may not know/remember what they really look like as a healthy adult.

That is one thing I definitely struggle with. When I look at pictures of myself taken over the last year or so, I still sort of do a double-take, because it really does not look like the me that I have seen in the mirror for so many years. It's not a drastic change, mind you, but my face has filled out enough for me to notice.

And if it doesn't look like me, who does it look like?

My biological father, that's who. And that, honestly, pisses me off in ways that I cannot articulate. About 99% of the pictures that I have of him are from when he was exactly the age that I am now (he was 22 when I was born and 24 when we finally left him). And seriously, if you photoshopped together pictures of us both at age 23, we could pass as twins (although I have to admit it's slightly interesting to see what I would have looked like if my second X chromosome had lost a leg). I don't recall exactly how much I have discussed him on this blog, but he is Not a Good Guy, and I prefer to have as little association with him as possible. I have always had his eyes and nose, but now that my face is also starting to show the same overall shape as his, I hate it more and more. Every time I glance at a photo or see myself in the mirror and see "his" face, I really just want to rip the image to shreds.

But even if I didn't bear such a close resemblance to someone for whom I have such negative associations, it is just plain strange to look at a photo of yourself and think "Damn, that is NOT what I am supposed to look like." Friends and family may think you look great, look beautiful, look healthy, but in your mind it is just alien, and more a little unnerving.

I had a friend in college with an ED, and almost all of her pictures on Facebook are from healthier times, when she was at a higher weight than I have ever seen her in real life. Truly, she was so gorgeous when she was healthier. I always wished I could make her see that, how perfect she looked when she was healthy, and how all the energy she was putting into the disease was making her neither healthy nor happy nor beautiful nor safe. What is the payoff supposed to be, again?

One last anecdote, because this is getting long: when I first started gaining weight, just feeling my body move differently was a very strange experience. Now, my body just feels like my body, for the most part, and I'm not as hyperconscious of every wiggling and different sensation as it moves. I do not want to be as thin as I was 2 years ago. My body didn't "feel thin" back then, it just felt sick. But in the beginning, just temporarily but long enough to be scary, it may truly feel like your own flesh is someone else's clothing you put on by mistake. So combine this sensory confusion with the emotional turmoil about giving up a lifestyle that--however disordered--is all you've had to cling to for months, years, decades, and it's little wonder that people go through slippages and relapses on the path to true health.

Recovery is hard work, damnit.

It's ok to admit that, as long as you realize that at least this hard work pays off, whereas an ED is hard work too, but it's work that is robbing you all the while.

I've gotten off topic, I think, so to bring back continuity at the end:

1) Beauty goes beyond your physical appearance (see title of this blog)

2) You are most beautiful when you are most healthy. This applies to many aspects of beauty that are more than skin deep. It takes a while to see that, but don't lose patience with yourself.