TW: This article mentions sensitive topics such as weight gain, weight loss, and eating disorders.
Looking back on 2020, I tried to think only of the highlights. I began my final year of uni, became an expert in my boyfriend, interviewed for what I thought was my dream graduate job, visited new places, applied for Masters and achieved the best grades I’d had in the last four years. On December 31st the only thing I was able to devote any meaningful thought to however. I had gained, lost then gained again over a stone during the Covid-19 pandemic.
My 2020 was defined in numbers. Ashamedly, not the number of cases of Covid-19 in my area or the number of households I was able to see at any one time, or even the number of people that had lost their life to the pandemic. It was the percentage of carbohydrates I had left in my daily allowance. The calories I’d still need to burn if I was to shift that bread I had with dinner. The number of days I had to lose two pounds before I saw my boyfriend again.
A brief history about of relationship with my body
My adolescence has been shadowed by a tendency to either under- or overeat. An all too familiar cycle shared by many of my peers. Never deemed serious enough to be worthy of diagnosis, I’ve suffered with disordered eating since age nine. In the weeks before the biggest social event of my secondary school career, I decided it would probably be best if I lost some weight. I gave up cheese for a month (would not recommend). The day after our school dance, a male friend of mine looked at a picture from the night and told me I looked like I had an eating disorder. I was chuffed.
Following some intense ups and downs with a boyfriend at age 18, I committed to getting ‘back into shape.’ When we finally broke up I was unable to eat for days and I catch myself looking at the photos of myself from that time with shameful admiration. Her favourite jeans are far too big but she has a huge smile on her face. I forget that the night before my flatmate found me lying in the dark crying unironically to Taylor Swift. At age 19 during a global pandemic I did what everyone was doing. Binge watching Tiger King and eating everything in sight. At age 19 during a global pandemic I also obsessively exercised and sometimes purged after large meals.
Once I had reached an acceptable weight by my birthday in September, I threw myself into false recovery from the abuse I’d given my body for several months. I decided I was a body confident queen. You’re right Jameela Jamil, my New Year’s resolutions will not be to be skinny! A week later however, I found myself obsessively scrolling skinnyspo Instagram and weighing myself every hour again.
Falling back into old habits
Almost four months later, I am still faced with intense shame. I hadn’t sensibly shaken off the overwhelming urge to lose a fifth of my body weight. I failed to delete MyFitnessPal. I took up running. I began to body-check every half an hour again. I have returned to my pre-pandemic weight and I can get back into clothes I haven’t worn in two years. My appearance has undeniably changed, but I am confronted with the realisation – no one is looking at me any differently.
Approaching graduation, I have been forced to reflect on what makes up my identity in a desperate bid to carve out my ‘personal brand.’ In that time I have tried to interrogate the crushing shame I have mounted on my body. Unfortunately, this shame is multi-faceted and ever-changing. Never staying in the same place long enough to allow me unrestricted access to it. In the last twelve months, it has been a shame that I can’t get into my favourite jeans, but more challengingly, it has been a shame that I cared so deeply. I am not yet Jameela Jamil’s body confident queen. I’m not quite sure I’m even Ambar Driscoll’s body acceptance queen – I will settle for body apathy.
Going forward
Emerging from lockdown I am committing to accountability. I urge others who have found themselves in similar positions to do the same. By this, I don’t mean rallying girlfriends in a toxic group chat where we share inspirational quotes and low calorie meals. Underpinning accountability is a willingness to relinquish any expectations of what is not in your direct control. I cannot control whether someone else looks thinner than me in the same top, just like I cannot control what food-shaming joke my boyfriend’s flatmate will spout next. I can control how I respond. I cannot yet control intrusive thoughts around food, but I can allow myself the space to interrogate these thoughts and urges.
The lesson from this that will hopefully spill over into the rest of my life is that I can allow shame to pass over me, but not allow it to stay any longer than it takes me to unpick the irrationalities of it. Covid-19 has been an emotionally and physically draining time for the whole world. I feel a sense of grateful responsibility to ensure the lessons it afforded me shape my life going forward.
Ellie Summers
Featured image courtesy of Annie Spratt on Unsplash. Image licence found here. No changes were made to this image.
