Wendy G.
Photography by Dominick Fini
Dear Reader,
Wendy’s letter describes her personal journey with disordered eating and we advise those who may be triggered by this topic to practice caution when reading this letter. If you are struggling please reach out to our Peer Contact or one of the resources listed on our Resources Page.
Sincerely, The IfYoureReadingThis Team
If you’re reading this, you deserve to love your body.
My first year of college was full of unexpected challenges and changes. I certainly didn’t expect to start college from my bedroom at home in northern Virginia amid a global pandemic. But even less so did I expect to struggle with my body image and disordered eating during my first year of college. Starting college at home, I became stir-crazy and started working out a lot. I was running miles every day to get out of the house. I wasn’t exercising to lose weight or look a certain way, but one day I felt compelled to step on the scale and realized I had gained weight. I immediately freaked out. I didn’t look or feel any different, but the sudden fluctuation in my weight sent me into a spiral. I downloaded every calorie-tracking app onto my phone and started counting calories and restricting my diet. I didn’t adjust well to the sudden limitations, and long durations of restrictions were followed by binge eating.
I obsessively weighed myself throughout the holiday season and increasingly felt more miserable as I saw the number increase each time. I remember baking red velvet cupcakes with my sisters and refusing to eat them. When my family took Christmas pictures, all I could think about was how tight my skirt felt.
Once I moved on Grounds in the spring, everything took a turn for the worse. I started keeping mental lists of everything I had ingested that day. I kept lists of “good” and “bad” foods, and when I inevitably “messed up,” I spent the day admonishing and punishing myself with exercise. I laid in bed at the end of each day and promised myself that I would eat less tomorrow.
My disordered eating habits slowly but surely developed into disordered thought patterns. I remember analyzing my body and picking myself apart. I stared at my fingers in class and wondered if they had grown larger since I had eaten my last meal. I dug through old photos of myself and fanatically tried to compare my current proportions to how I used to look. I grew to resent this skinnier past version of myself while detesting my body in the present.
At some point, something about my constant despondency and self-loathing pushed me to seek out a therapist. I was terrified to tell anyone about how I felt, but I was even more afraid of the path I knew I was going down. She diagnosed me with obsessive-compulsive disorder and severe body dysmorphia and referred me to a nutritionist. Most people feel better once they receive a diagnosis and learn more about their conditions, but I was even more scared. Those words sounded massively unconquerable when I first heard them. They came with a slew of negative connotations and stigmas I wanted to shove in a box and hide forever.
After two years of therapy and many ups and downs, this letter is me opening and sharing my box of fears, doubts, and shame. I’ve regained a semblance of a “healthy” relationship with food, I no longer weigh myself, and I’m closer to believing the affirmations I recite. Somewhere along the way, I stopped analyzing old pictures and finally let my past self rest.
By no means am I a perfect, shiny “body-positive advocate.” I sometimes still feel “too big” and overwhelming emotions of guilt after certain snack sprees, but I’ve finally healed to a point where I can share my experiences in the hopes of making others feel less alone. Years of self-hatred made me believe that my body wasn’t worthy of acceptance. By extension, I taught myself that I didn’t deserve to give my body that validation. But no one’s body is abnormal, unworthy, or “too x,” and no one should feel that way. My body is worthy of my love and care, and I deserve to nourish and call my body home. And so do you. We all do.
Wendy G. (she/her), University of Virginia ‘24
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