*NAME HAS BEEN CHANGED. GETTY IMAGES
IT ALL STARTED WHEN
I WAS 14. Before then, I was
all long limbs and overalls
(what’s good, 2001), running
around paying zero attention
to my body. Then puberty
properly hit – you know, the
bit after you get your period
where your entire body goes
from beanpole to curvaceous
woman? My tiny, kid-size
hips blew out to a size 10, my
boobs started budding, and
sporty one-pieces made way
for bikinis. I ‘pubertied’ until
I was around a size 12. From
then on, I was unhappy with
my body. I know – size 12 is
super normal. But as I’m sure
many of you reading this can
relate to, I had completely
bought into the lie that being
petite and under a size 8 was
the only way to be beautiful.
It was when I started a
desk job at 25 that my body
image issues really started to
skyrocket. I’d been living the
part-time retail life of food
court lunches, but being on
my feet all day meant all that
KFC and Macca’s was getting
burnt off at a regular pace.
My weight didn’t f luctuate
at all. That changed once
I was sitting at a desk 9-5.
Gradually, over three years,
my size went from a small 12
to a size 16.
At the same time, my on/
off ex broke up with me for
good. I was thrown into the
online dating world that had
developed over the three
years we were together, and
had a string of three-dates-
then-ghost kind of guys.
Work was going brilliantly.But for the first time, my
best friend and I were single
at the same time – and I was
noticing how she raked in
the compliments every time
we entered a party together.
I felt like the sub-par sidekick
and I was sure it had every-
thing to do with my being
four sizes bigger than her.
I was convinced that if I
was skinnier, guys would be
falling at my feet. I would be
happier, feel way better about
myself and be liked by others.
Basically, my weight was the
key to my ideal life. If I could
get back to a size 12, every-
thing would fall into place.
I figured the only thing
that would get me back to a
size 12 was hardcore dieting.
I’d tried exercise and ‘eating
healthy’ and it just wasn’t
cutting it. So I went brutal
for a year – think a balanced
diet, but the kind that limits
your calorie intake in quite a
serious way. I was incredibly
strict. No more breaking the
diet for office birthday cake.
No drunken fried chicken.
Loads of nights saying no to
dinners out and yes to my
boring diet meals.
By late 2016, I was down
to a size 10. I had never been
a size 10 in my life past child-
hood. And goddamn, did it
feel good. I shopped like I was
a Z-grade inf luencer about
to go on a reality show. I’d
walk into General Pants and
everything looked amazing
on me. I wore crop tops for
the first time ever and felt
like the most confident gal
in the world. Everyone was
giving me attention for my
new, skinny bod. I was easily
the ‘best-looking’ I’d been in
my life, by cliché standards.
Well, you know what was
a big, rude awakening? I wasnot in the least bit happier.
Oh, sure, I had the initial few-
month-long high. Hitting a
goal felt good. But proper,
deep satisfaction? None.
Firstly, boys absolutely
did NOT f lock to my yard.
Hello? I got the proverbial
milkshake, aka the hot bod- where were my boys at? I
was literally having the exact
same issues with guys that
I had as a size 16. Given this
was a huge part of my push
to lose weight, I was really,
really thrown. Aaaand then
came the super-fun spiral of
self-hate. If guys don’t like me
NOW, in this sexy bod, does
that mean it’s my personality?
The second shocker was
that I was somehow MORE
insecure about my body. My
original hatred for it – for
being curvy, for not fitting
into cool jeans and looking
like an Instagram model –
had gone. In the right pair,
I could look like an Instagram
babe – with the right filter
and a tiny hint of Facetune.
But the focus had shifted. My
butt was too f lat. My boobs
were saggy. My thighs went
‘IF I WAS SKINNY
AND I STILL HAD
PROBLEMS X,
Y AND Z – WELL,
THERE’S A
BIGGER PROBLEM
WITH ME’out weirdly. Are those crow’s
feet around my eyes?
The level of insecurity
was brought to my attention
by my best friend first. ‘You
ask me every time you get
dressed if you look good. You
send me pics of your outfit at
different angles. You never
used to do that,’ she told me
bluntly. And I didn’t. For all
my self-hate before, I was at
least confident when an outfit
looked good. Or I didn’t care
as much, maybe. Either way,
I’d lost more self-confidence
along with the weight, and
now needed confirmation
that I looked great, all the
time. I was actually a more
confident person at size 16.
It wasn’t until I saw a
psychologist for other issues
that I had my ‘aha’ moment.
My issue wasn’t weight. It
was self-esteem. Fixing my
weight just moved the self-
esteem issues elsewhere, and
increased them, because if
I was skinny and I still had
problems x, y and z – well,
there’s a BIGGER problem
with me, isn’t there?
So did all that ‘realising
stuff ’ lead to me loving my-
self sick now? No way. I’m
working on it, though. I still
like being the size I am now,
especially since I’ve relaxed
the dieting and taken up more
fitness classes to get healthier,
not skinnier. And it IS kinda
nice to get into the skinny
jeans. But I’ve realised that
my body isn’t the issue. While
I want to maintain a healthy
weight, I know it’s not what
will make me truly happy, as
naff as that sounds. Oh hell,
let’s just go to naff heaven –
I’m finally ~working on my
inner self~ and it feels bloody
great. Did you just vomit a
bit? #sorrynotsorry. #body