I started watching what I ate around third grade. A boy in my class had made a crack about my weight — an aspect of my physical self I’d never even pondered before — and, suddenly, I was self-conscious about and uneasy in my body. I didn’t dive into actual, formal diets until much later, but third grade marked the beginning of my weight obsession. An obsession that lasted beyond my college years. I won’t bore you with the details because honestly? They’re textbook self-loathing and body dysmorphia. My story could be anyone’s. Keep reading »
It’s been seven years since I owned a scale. Back then, I was 19, and obsessively chronicling my calories, workouts, and incremental weight changes. 105 one day. 106 would send me into a panic attack. 106.5 put me over the edge. When a handful of months later, I’d find out I was 121, my world would turn upside-down.
Yes, I was one of those young women who, by all clinical definitions, had an eating disorder. I can’t exactly tell you how I came out of it. I tend to think I just outgrew it. But if eating disorders are about extreme method and control, then my exodus was something of a doodled roadmap, an attempt to stop thinking so much. Which I guess is why I can’t really remember the progress. But I can remember one thing: the women’s magazine article voice in my head telling me, “Beauty is not a number. Throw out your scale, Scary Spice! Fill your fridge with broccoli and Yoplait non-fat yogurts! Write down daily affirmations! Buy some self-tanner! This is how you’ll be a better you!” Keep reading »
What if every time you stepped on the scale, it called you “Hot,” “Lovely,” or “Ravishing,” rather than any number that’s not your “goal weight”? This “Yay! Scale” made by VoluptuArt pays with compliments rather than pounds, but some think that a scale without numbers just “encourages unhealthy eating habits.” Whatever, I am just bugged out by the hideousness of that pink shag. [$55, VolupuArt via BoingBoing] Keep reading »