The Marrero Chronicles

06.23.21

I'm a size 6 in jeans. I try not to look at the size labels. A size 6 isn't skinny. It isn't bad. It's not fat. It's just a number. That's all it is. Those days when I was a 00 weren't healthy. I was starving then, sick then. I try to tell myself I am getting better. I am healthier now. I lost more weight without trying and now I've gone down two sizes. What confuses me is when my 12/5 shorts fit but I'm a 6 in jeans? I know what you're going to say.

Those weren't from the same store. They aren't the same fabric. To expect the size difference to be normal. Everyone tells me that weight fluctuation is healthy at my age. I have no reason to not believe them. There's just a tiny demon sitting in my brain typing up insults to call myself in the mirror.

But those jeans fit me perfectly. Like a glove. No hassle. Room to grow. I felt confident in them. Proud even!

It's just that number....

When you're less than a 2 your entire life, and suddenly you grow and can't fit into the same things, it didn't feel like a growth spurt to me or just growing up. It was "plumping up" because of my medicine, not losing the weight I gained from an unplanned chemical pregnancy, finally being able to keep weight on. A blessing and a curse. I wished to gain weight for years. I just wanted to be healthy. I was tired of people asking if I was anorexic or starving myself for attention. I was sick of people giving me their food, insisting that I ate it during class because "I didn't look well, and I needed it more than they did."

And my wish was granted. I kept some weight on, and I continue to lose it and gain it back in some weird pattern. However, my wish being granted only added to my struggle. Instead of people calling me anorexic, I was getting called fat.

"Are you really going to eat that?" They would ask.

"You need to exercise more Kaila. You don't want to let yourself go."

"Remember to eat healthy, cut the junk out."

But thinner girls could still eat that candy bar. Thinner girls had flat bellies and crop tops on during summer. Thinner girls felt no guilt getting McDonald's because their weight would just melt off. They looked in the mirror and didn't see a squishy pudgy belly. They didn't hate how round their face had become.

I keep telling myself to throw my tags away. Not to look at the number. Scribble out the number...

But I saw a number today and it surprised me. Now I'm a 6 in jeans. How did I lose the weight? No, I don't want to know. Do I want it back? I don't know. I still feel healthy. I went from not eating pretty much at all to eating at least two meals a day and healthy snacks. I feel nauseous whenever I eat anything, but it's better than starving myself again. I keep fighting through it.

Some day the nausea will stop right?
I try to give myself hope for that. I will not vomit that food up. I know it's important. It's sustenance; fuel to help my body do what it needs to. I won't get in the way of that again.

A lot of people will read this and those who know me will probably say 
"How ridiculous! She wasn't fat."

You're right. I wasn't. I'm not even fat now. When you struggle with an eating disorder like I do, your brain tricks you into throwing yourself down an endless rabbit hole. To you, you see a thin busty girl wearing a nice outfit. I strive to see that, because what I see is much different. I see how full my face is, how noticeable my belly fat is, how jiggly my thighs are. I notice how my boobs are sweating during summer, how all of my stretch marks are on show for the world to see when I walk down the street.

This summer has just begun, and I've already faced my dysmorphia with a brave face. I wore a bikini to a pool event, and it was harder than I made it look. I was constantly worrying myself over how I looked. Had anyone noticed the marks, cellulite, any of my scars? Was my bathing suit appropriate for my body type?

I try to be as body positive as I can be. Even when I see bigger people in bathing suits I can see that they are beautiful. Why is it just me? It's just me that I'm judging. It's just me looking down wondering if my belly looked weird with a bikini on. It's just me trying to stay in the water so I don't have to get out and walk around. It's just me feeling nervous eating potato balls outside without a towel around my body.

But I did it, and I am proud of myself.

I tell myself every day that I am beautiful, that I am strong. One day I might believe it every time it comes out of my mouth, but I feel grateful for these mini accomplishments. I'm taking this one baby step at a time, and I'm allowing myself to feel joy for the little things that show me how far I've become.

Now instead of seeing a number, I see a glimpse of the beautiful woman looking back at me- looking great in her new jeans.

It's worth it to go through this fight.