This post is a part of a series on my health and fitness journey. The series posts are coming along much slower than I anticipated… they are much harder to write than I thought they’d be! Confronting my past health and fitness issues as I am working on my present issues has not been easy. I still plan to continue writing about my story in hopes in hopes of reaching out to others, motivating myself, and confronting some hard truths about myself. Bare with me! My first post in the series was, “Childhood and Teen Self-Image and Food Relationships.”
My college years were likely similar to many other people’s college years. My freshman year I gained the freshman 15 as usual. I started college my freshman year at 130 lbs and left around 150 lbs. College was a hard transition for me because I was working three jobs, taking a full course load, and living eight hours from all my friends and family. By the end of my Freshman year I decided to move back to my hometown and attend college near family. The Summer of my Freshman year I spent working, losing some weight, and trying not to feel like a failure. (If you don’t know me by now… I’m a tad dramatic.)
My Sophomore year was a doozy. I worked three jobs, found many good friends, declared a major in Journalism, and met the man that would someday be my husband. It was a wonderful, whirlwind of a year. Throughout the year I became much more serious about my health and about writing. I’d write for hours and work out for hours. I rarely slept. My roommate never saw me.
Unfortunately, likely due to not being well-educated in food and health, I didn’t understand much about calories and exercise. I *knew* I was supposed to eat 1500 calories a day. I *knew* that burning calories meant I was going to lose weight. So, I’d work out. I’d burn 500-700 calories a day while maintaing a food diary that would hover around 1500 to 1700 calories a day. I’d punish myself if I went over my goal by working harder. My mind was constantly counting calories. I was losing weight—I made it down to my goal weight of 125. (By *knew* I mean I thought it was a truth and later found out that while there is some truth to both those statements, there is much more to it all.)
I wasn’t happy though. I felt like I was hungry ALL the time. I began to have stomach problems, my hair started falling out, and I was tired all the time. My nickname at work was “Chiquita” because I bruised as easily as a banana. I went in and out of the doctor’s office several times until they discovered that I was anorexic. While I was losing weight, I was also losing muscle mass and making myself sick.
“Anorexic? Me? But, I eat!”
It wasn’t something I did intentionally— It was accidental anorexia. (I don’t think that is a clinic diagnosis!) Not understanding how calories worked in my body made me make mistakes with my body that could have been even more harmful than lost hair and bruising.
I didn’t stop eating or begin working out because I was desperate to be skinny. I wanted to be thin, sure, but I thought I was getting healthy. My idea of health came from reading hundreds of magazines that explained the “way to lose weight and get healthy!” It was from well-meaning, but not understanding friends who would not so subtly suggest I not eat something. It was from friends handing me their “fat” clothes as hand-me downs all the while saying, “I’m never going back to that size.” It was from giving away my skinny clothes to a pregnant girl to wear around her round belly. It was from not understanding about the differences in people’s body types, how foods works in the body, and what burning calories does to the body.
I thankfully was able to catch myself in time to not do any permanent damage. In the end I maintained a weight around 135-145 throughout college. It was a rough realization that I needed to actually pay attention to my body and what I put into it. I learned to eat more for sustenance. I ran myself ragged in college. My senior year was spent prepping for a wedding, working four jobs, and going to school full-time. I didn’t have to really watch my weight because I rarely had time to even think about it. I was always on the move.
Looking back, I was a beautiful size. At the time I was fixated on the fact that my jean size was a 10 instead of an 8. Now I know that was likely be the smallest that I will ever be in my adult years. However, I still aim to be a healthy weight and to focus on my health.