My hot take:
I was 11 years old when my oldest brother wanted to go into the military. The recruiter told him: you are too heavy to take, loose 20 lbs and you’re in!
My mother, wanting to give her eldest the best, enthusiastically told the rest of her children that we too, would be taking part in the diet for him.
“Whoever loses the most weight I’ll take to Dairy Queen and get a blizzard for!” This was tantalizing for any of our sheltered, homeschooled selves, which at the time I probably could have counted on one hand how many times I had gotten a blizzard.
I remember staring in the mirror at my body.
I had always hated it.
Every lump, bump and curve. Even the ones society called “good”.
My mother would tell me how I was just like her. And I would see her hurt herself with diets, fail at loving herself-damage herself at the expense of others.
This diet was a way for me to prove how I was good, better maybe, than her.
I hurt myself. I gasped for air. I pushed myself beyond healthy. Slowly, very slowly, the weight ticked off. Every pound my mother enthusiastically applauded.
Every pound I felt the weight of her curse as my own.
I was eleven.
I wasn’t even a woman yet, and I had gained her curse.
What followed were years of starving myself, binging myself, hating myself, and hurting myself. I would go days without eating, I would go weeks eating small portions with hate.
I was taught pounds equaled love, I was taught the only thing about my body that mattered; it wasn’t right-and it was my fault.
Between fist fulls of chocolate chips hidden in the pantry and starving myself my self hatred grew into an ugly creature.
I was taught I didn’t have control of anything: least of all my body. I was ridiculed and laughed at for wanting to make diet changes that weren’t motivated by weight alone.
And my body was in survival, hiding, hoping and holding onto anything she could-some delusion of control.
My faith in God wasn’t enough, my knowledge I was enough to him wasn’t good enough. I wasn’t enough to my mother-and I definitely wasn’t enough for me.
Years later, when I started therapy, I suddenly realized one thing: I hated myself, I blamed myself, and my body held onto my weight to protect myself from its most dangerous enemy: me.
In 2024 I met the love of my life.
He was kind, handsome, and loved me with a passion I hadn’t even read the depth of in books.
The day our bodies met he held me in his arms and told me he would choose me, and continue choosing me for the rest of our lives.
He continued to exhibit this in his behavior, his words, and his soul. I moved across the country to be with him, the easiest decision I ever made.
And when we set our wedding date six months out my mind tugged at me.
Are you going to loose weight? She asked. Finally be skinny like you always wanted? Push yourself like before! Lose the weight and finally be happy!
But something even bigger responded. It was repulsed by the idea I had to change for him. That for some reason I couldn’t love my wedding day unless I did-or, if I didn’t loose the weight-the crushing defeat that I was so avidly familiar with.
I wasn’t going to be sad about anything on the best day of my life: I wasn’t going to loose any weight for it.
Because I deserve to be happy on my wedding day in the body I currently own. I don’t need to feel like a failure for not loosing weight that has been predetermined as the measurement of my worth.
The man I love, and the day we promise our lives to each other will not be tainted with the same self hatred everything else in my life has been: and I will love me that day the way I am, the way he loves me.
At the end of the three months, I had lost 27 pounds and my brother had lost 15.
I had lost the most weight. My mother took me through Dairy Queen and I got the smallest blizzard you could get. I remember choking down a couple bites of the sweet treat before pushing it away. It tasted disgusting-it tasted like every moment I had hated my body into submission the last three months. It tasted like not listening to myself, it tasted like wanting approval and hurting myself.
I didn’t finish it.
My mother praised me for it.
This curse will not continue with my daughter.
It ends with me. And it can end with you too.
Reflecting on the powerful message of not dieting for significant life events like weddings, it’s important to understand how societal pressures can deeply impact our self-esteem and relationship with our bodies. Many people face the challenge of equating weight loss with self-worth or happiness, especially when external expectations come from family or cultural norms. However, this mindset often leads to cycles of self-criticism, unhealthy dieting behaviors, and emotional distress. Experts in mental health and nutrition emphasize the value of intuitive eating and body positivity, which encourage listening to your body’s needs without harsh judgment or dietary restrictions. Embracing your natural body not only improves mental well-being but also fosters a healthier, sustainable lifestyle free from guilt or shame. From a psychological perspective, the journey toward self-acceptance helps break generational patterns of harmful dieting habits and self-hatred. This can lead to improved relationships — including the critical connection with oneself — and better support from loved ones who appreciate you for who you are, not what you look like. The depicted story illustrates a courageous decision to reject the long-held belief that weight defines loveability or happiness. Choosing to stand firm against the pressure to lose weight for a wedding day symbolizes reclaiming control over personal well-being and honoring intrinsic worth. It also highlights how sharing such experiences authentically can inspire those facing similar struggles to prioritize self-compassion. Ultimately, the journey shared here aligns with growing movements that challenge unrealistic beauty standards and encourage celebrating diversity in body shapes and sizes. If you or someone you know struggles with these issues, resources like therapy, supportive communities, and mindful practices can provide vital assistance. Remember, you deserve to feel joyful and confident in your body at every stage of life — and that starts with loving yourself, just as you are.
Why did I read the whole thing😭 But ur lowk like rly good at writing