calling a truce is hard work.

my body and i have been engaged in a war for years. or, more accurately, i’ve been waging a one-sided offensive attack against my body for most of my life.

i’ve done some pretty horrible things to my body. and ironically, when i was at my unhealthiest (vomiting daily, smoking a pack and a half a day), i got the most compliments. i’ve never been a skinny girl, and it’s hard to look back on those dramatically slimmer photos of myself without a little bit of wistful envy. even with the benefit of hindsight, it’s difficult to look at those pictures and see them for what they really were: a sad, sick girl who was trying so hard to be in control, but so desperately out of it.

it’s even harder to see that picture objectively when i’m not thrilled with (what seems to be) a here-to-stay older, heavier, softer version of myself. i first gained a few extra pounds when i quit smoking – but i was happy enough to make that tradeoff. then i put on a few more pounds when we went travelling – but i certainly wasn’t worried about dieting while traipsing about seeing the world. it was only the other day that i realised i’ve been working at this same extra ten pounds now for the past two years. and it occurred to me that maybe this is the new normal for me.

and ten pounds isn’t a lot, i know, though i admit i’d love to lose it. but honestly, what i really want, more than anything else, is to not feel a slave to my body image issues. i am so goddamn tired of thinking about my weight – it feels like something dead and festering that i’ve been lugging around, year after interminable year. something toxic that has taken up so much headspace, for so very long. because truth be told, no matter what the scale says, or how easily my belt buckles – i’ve never been happy. never. even at my thinnest, i wasn’t happy. even at my strongest, i wasn’t happy. it’s extremely upsetting to think about the amount of time and energy i’ve invested in being miserable over the course of my life.

what i want is this: to exercise because it makes me feel good, and not out of a burgeoning panicky fear of a number. to eat mostly healthy stuff, but indulge in occasional treats without berating myself as being weak-willed. to accept that i’m no longer the same jean size i was in my 20s, and to understand that that’s normal – not feel like it’s a deeply personal failing.

i just want to be happy with my body. for once in my life, i want to feel happy in my skin. it shouldn’t be such a big thing, but just thinking about how overwhelmingly intense that sense of relief would be, makes me well up. the idea of being free of that heavy burden – the self-criticism, the internalised hatred, the fear – would be even better than being 9 stone again. it would be the best kind of weight i could ever shed.

after all these years, i think i’m finally beginning to understand that being happy in my body actually has very little to do with my body. it’s not the amount of space my physique takes up in my clothes – it’s the amount of space i let it take up in my brain.

changing my body, as much of a struggle as that has always been, is not the hard part. changing my perspective is far, far more difficult.

it’s hard to let go. and to trust that letting go of my rigid need for control, does not mean i will spiral out of control. because for most of my life, i thought the important thing was to forcibly subjugate my physical self to my mind’s will, to make it do what i wanted, to show it who was boss. my corporeal desires and needs and limits were something to be conquered. and i did – often at the expense of my health, both physical and mental.

i am slowly realising i can only achieve that lasting peace that i so yearn for, by starting with a ceasefire. stop viewing myself as the enemy. stop attacking myself with guilt and shame. so i find myself trying to broker a truce. trying to find a middle ground i can live with by redrawing the boundaries, letting go of that fear, and practicing some tolerance.

it’s new ground for me. i’m still in negotiation talks with the thighs.

the promise ring – happiness is all the rage

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