More Sun, Less Clothes

Managing body image distress amid changing seasons

These past few weeks, we’ve seen the first signs of spring here in NYC. Like many of us, I’m thrilled about the sunny, warmer weather. Summer is undoubtedly my favorite time of year — being outside brings me lots of joy and energy, and spring means that we’re almost there!

I’ve been actively recovering from an eating disorder for three years now, but I’ve been by far the most consistent and diligent over the past nine months. Friends have recently remarked that I seem to be happier, more carefree. I was feeling, until this past week, as though the difficult work I’ve done over these several years was finally starting to manifest in some tangible results. While I’ve continued to see physical signs of progress with my body, I’m also referring here to my mental recovery — how I’ve been thinking feels markedly different from where I was at this time last year.

I’ve always known that my journey (which I anticipate will probably be lifelong, at least in some capacity) with food and my body wouldn’t be linear; I expect more highs and lows, and I understand flare-ups are inevitably ahead. In fact, I’ve been quite nervous to say out loud that I feel as though I’ve turned somewhat of a corner in my recovery, afraid that I would “jinx” myself.

(CW — There are discussions related to weight and body changes ahead. If you’re not currently in a space to read about these themes, I completely understand!).

I’ve gained more weight in the past nine months than I have over the past five or six years. I know that this has been the best thing for my holistic health — my thinnest body was not my healthiest; it was my most unhealthy. My mental and emotional health were also horrendous, given the fact that I was spending all of my energy trying to force my body to be a size that it simply isn’t supposed to be.

The majority of my body’s physical changes, however, have taken place over the course of fall and winter. Naturally, I — and pretty much everyone I’ve come into contact with — have been bundled up during these months in pants, sweatshirts, and coats, which obviously cover significantly more of one’s body than, say, shorts and a t-shirt.

On a recent afternoon, I was elated — daylight savings had happened the previous day and the temperature was the highest it had been in months, so I hurriedly made my way to my favorite park. Unsurprisingly, I saw many runners, cyclists, and families walking with strollers. More to my surprise was the fact that many of these people were wearing shorts, tank tops, or even just sports bras.

The possibility that seeing more of others’ bodies and exposed skin might spark some personal body and weight-related thoughts wasn’t even on my radar. Honestly, I felt pretty caught off guard that afternoon. In hindsight, perhaps I should have anticipated that the changing weather might bring up some body- and clothing-related things for me. But, I’ve been in a good rhythm lately, wearing clothes that feel comfortable and not even thinking about the prospect of needing to shift into a warm-weather wardrobe.

To clarify, seeing more of others’ bodies didn’t really propel me to compare my own body to theirs or to analyze their physical appearances. I’ve worked really, really hard to avoid spending my mental energy dwelling on and/or envying others’ bodies — while I know that this is also likely going to require ongoing effort for me, this isn’t what I found myself doing in this instance.

I think, more than anything, seeing others wearing less clothing instantly reminded me that I’m going to have to start wearing shorts and exposing more of my own skin in the not far-off future, which then lead to a fixation on my own body.

Over the course of that week, I experienced more negative thoughts about my appearance than I have in quite some time. Should I eat less tonight? Should I cut this out of my meal? I think I need to start doing high-intensity workouts again. What if I need more new summer clothes to accommodate additional weight changes by the summertime? Etc.

I’m not in a place yet where a full day goes by and I don’t have a single negative thought about my body and physical appearance. However, for at least the past few months, I hadn’t been experiencing an impulse to restrict and/or over-exercise for many days (or sometimes weeks!) at a time (which feels like a massive win).

To be blatantly honest, I’m not enjoying writing this piece. I’m disappointed with myself and I don’t love admitting that this flare-up happened. As Chrissy King so poignantly calls out in We Can't Win in a Society That is Hyper Fixated on Commenting on Women's Bodies:

“When we’re obsessed with the size of our bodies and using our energy towards the pursuit of thinness, we don’t have the energy to focus on the things that really matter — like our rights.”

I know how profoundly true this statement is; I have years of experience to prove that hyper-focusing on my body only harms me — it uses up my time and energy, makes me anxious, and causes me to miss out on pouring myself into things that genuinely matter, including the things that bring me joy and fulfillment.

But, it happened. And, unfortunately, there isn’t anything I can do to go back in time and prevent it, nor is there a way to 100% guarantee that these disordered thoughts won’t come up again. So, where do I go from here?

Firstly, I prioritize grounding myself in the present. I remind myself that spending my time beating myself up, being frustrated with what has already passed, running through the “what-ifs,” and catastrophizing the future only ever makes things worse. I’ve learned time and time again that, in spending my hours worrying about the past and/or the future, I simply make myself feel more overwhelmed and distressed. I waste precious energy that could instead be channeled into focusing on what I realistically can do in the present, in what’s actually happening in the here and now. Unquestionably, it’s a far, far more effective strategy for me to take things one step, one day, or even one moment, at a time.

Admittedly, one of the biggest hurdles for me in getting my recovery initially moving was the longer-term possibilities. What if I hated wherever my weight eventually settled after consistently eating and resting? And, shamefully, my biggest fear: What if my body ended up back in the same place as it was when I initially developed an ED? I can distinctly remember how vehemently I hated that body — so much so, apparently, that I was willing to resort to dangerous tactics to change it. I was worried that I would recover and end up in that same body, while still having the intense body image issues that I’d always had.

Now, I know that my disordered behaviors were ultimately coping mechanisms that had a lot to do with my trauma, my lack of self-worth, and my attempt to regain some sense of control after a difficult and stressful childhood.

In my personal experience, however, the trickiest part of healing one’s relationship with food, body image, movement, etc. is often that, especially given the health risks that ED’s pose, it’s necessary to change your behaviors before you’ve worked through trauma and are able to cope in safer, healthier ways. Subsequently, for a long time, I was quite literally forcing myself to eat and rest more while my brain was constantly screaming, “PANIC!” My long-standing coping mechanisms, which I had relied on in some capacity for over two decades, were now the very ones that I couldn’t use.

Two quotes from Brianna Wiest’s newest book have been extraordinarily helpful:

“What you say most often begins to form elements of your inner narrative, the way in which you dictate who you are and how you will interact with the world.”

This week, amid urges to restrict and over-exercise, I kept reminding myself that I do actually have autonomy over my thoughts — I can’t control when thoughts like this arise, but I can decide whether or not to dwell on them, to continue engaging with them. I spent years telling myself that, when these types of disordered thoughts came up, I had no ability to redirect my mind. I let the ED voice take over, convinced that it wasn’t worth fighting because it would always be a losing battle.

Even though others spoke about how it was possible to re-wire your brain, to change how you think, to unlearn and re-learn, I was highly resistant to any suggestions that I should try speaking positive affirmations to myself, writing them out, saying them in front of the mirror, etc. That doesn’t work. I can’t force myself to believe something. It just makes me more frustrated to repeat things to myself that I don’t really think are true.

Ultimately, I was wrong about this, but I did have to learn it on my own. No matter how many times someone else gave this advice — a therapist, dietician, my partner, friends, a book or a blog — I refused to entertain that it might be helpful. But, I eventually became so desperate, so sick of finding myself trapped in the same, seemingly never-ending cycle of self-loathing, that I decided I had nothing to lose.

The biggest shift in my recovery — mentally, emotionally, spiritually, physically, everything — came when I decided to try changing my inner narrative. Even when it didn’t feel sincere, I started speaking to myself radically differently than I had in the past. When I had a disordered thought, I immediately made myself say something more compassionate, more nurturing. When I had a negative thought about my appearance, I immediately made myself say the inverse.

I’m so lazy. I haven’t done enough physically. I need to walk farther today. → Rest is vital and productive. I’m giving my body exactly what it needs. My healing is my top priority. I’m now doing the right things for my health, no matter what.

I also intentionally reminded myself that my disordered impulses derive from values that aren’t in alignment with what genuinely matters to me. Whether these notions came from my parents’ beliefs, or the excess of body-centric messaging found in nearly every aspect of our society, things like productivity over everything, anti-rest, fatphobia, worth being found in physical appearance, and ever-changing social standards of what “attractive” or “acceptable” femininity looks like are no longer the values I want to hold. I know how utterly miserable I was trying to sustain these.

“[You must] realize that the things you most want are not the ones you will find but ones you will build.”

I’ve recognized, as Brianna so articulately puts it, that I spent a good chunk of time waiting to stumble upon a healed version of myself. I was waiting for a moment when it would finally click, when I would “find” the thing I most wanted — some sense of acceptance and gratitude for my body and all it does for me, no matter its size.

After hours of supremely hard work — processing trauma, self-reflecting, uncovering painful memories, identifying patterns, evaluating my values, unlearning, etc. — I now know how true Brianna’s statement is. I’m making peace with the fact that it’s my responsibility to build a new way of being, to take care of the only body that I have, to make the most out of the only life I get to live.

I share this with the hope that it might find someone else who resonates and offers some sense of solidarity and validation. If that’s you — please know that you aren’t alone! Even when I know something to be true deep down, it’s always always always helpful for me to see or talk with someone else who gets exactly what I’m going through.

I’d love to hear from you and hear any thoughts you have about these topics, or I’d love to connect and offer support from afar in whatever ways I can!

You can find me on Substack, where you can comment on my essays or message me directly!

Related notes: Chrissy King writes about the intricate links between racism, fatphobia, capitalism, patriarchy, and white supremacy — education about how diet culture and fatphobia are rooted in such dangerous ideologies is extremely necessary right now (as it is always). I’d highly recommend reading her work and subscribing to her Substack. And, a few very important reminders from her:

“It is never, and I repeat never, okay to comment on someone else's body or appearance. And yes, this includes celebrities and strangers on the internet.”

“Our personal body liberation cannot be tied to what is happening culturally or what’s the ‘in’ body by mainstream standards.”