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It'll Be Better When I'm Thin...
Myths about what does--and doesn't--make you happy in life
Geneen
Roth
For many years, I was convinced that by changing my body, I would
change my life. Because I was certain that my suffering was due to my
size, I believed that when the weight disappeared, it would take old
wounds, hurts, and rejections with it. I thought that changing the shape
on the outside would alter the feelings on the inside. Silly me.
Consider a milk carton. No matter what you do to change its shape--switch
the spout to the other side, round the corners, cut off the top--you know
that what's inside is milk. Not apple juice, not vegetable soup, but milk.
But somehow we don't know that changing how we look on the
outside--shedding pounds or cinching in our waists a few inches--doesn't
change what we are, either.
We mistakenly believe that altering our bodies will fix everything.
That's because we think that body size is the cause and, therefore, the
healer of all wounds. Perhaps our worst mistake is believing that being
thin equals being loved, being special, being cherished. We couldn't be
more wrong.
Think of the women who live in Samoa. Legend has it that a woman there is
not considered attractive unless she weighs more than 200 pounds. Size is
relative: Samoans might equate being fat with being cherished, and being
thin with being miserable. (Forget about booking a one-way trip to Samoa.
It's too expensive.) The truth is that beauty standards vary from culture
to culture, but no matter where you live or how big your body is, some
things remain the same. We still have to find a way to live comfortably
inside our bodies and make friends with and cherish ourselves.
Only Halfway There
A woman once came to my class after she'd lost 100 pounds on a fast and
then gained back 50. "They lied to me," she said. "They
said my life would be great when I got thin. That I would be happy. That I
would love myself and be loved. But that's not what happened. Sure, I
liked being thin. I liked wearing clothes in smaller sizes. I liked that
my body felt lighter. But I still felt like a fat person--unworthy,
unlovable, damaged. I was so disappointed and felt so betrayed by
everyone--beginning with my parents, who had always promised that things
would change when I got thin--that I started to eat again."
In Into Thin Air, a book about a climbing disaster on Mount
Everest, author and adventurer Jon Krakauer writes: "The summit is
really only the halfway point...I stayed on top of the world just long
enough to fire off four quick [photographs]. Then I turned to
descend."
It is exactly like that with your weight. You fantasize about what it will
be like when you reach the long-awaited goal. You dream of being thin, and
you work hard to get there. You postpone your other dreams, certain that
when you arrive, the struggle will have been worth it. Then, at last, you
find yourself there; but your new size, like the top of the world, is just
another place, and that's all. Being thin is only the halfway point. You
have to keep moving, eating, and living.
This lack of finality--the fact that your relationship with food and body
size is an ongoing process, not an end point--is the most elusive insight
to sustain. Even people who've lost weight 5, 10, or 20 times and always
gained it back continue to believe that next time, it will be different.
Next time, they will keep it off. Next time, being thin will finally
fulfill its alluring promise of everlasting happiness, joy, self-worth,
and, of course, love.
Come On, Get Happy
But if it's happiness you want, why not put your energy and attention
there rather than on the size of your body? Why not look inside? Somewhere
in there are the clues to what would make you happy right now.
I often get letters from people who say that when they start my program of
intuitive eating and pay attention to their inner lives, they quickly
discover that losing weight is not their first priority. It takes them by
surprise because they've focused their entire lives on becoming thinner.
But when they begin to take even small amounts of time for themselves,
when they allow themselves to rest or do nothing for 5 minutes a day, they
realize that it's what they wanted most of all. They want permission to
slow down and to live like they are special, valued, and belong here. This
is what they thought being thin would give them; now they realize that it
is something that they need to give to themselves.
I don't mean that you should accept being fat. Attaining your natural
weight is a fine goal. Besides making life easier by allowing you to fit
the cultural standard, losing weight also enables you to be more physical,
to take stress off your heart and joints, to choose from a wide variety of
clothes, and to fit into one chair. There are many good reasons to be
thin, but to be cherished should not be one of them. Why? Because it just
won't work. The truth is that you deserve to be cherished and should
cherish yourself no matter how much you weigh or how you look.
Being thin will never do what you think it's going to do. But you can have
whatever you believe that being thin will give you, and you can have it
now. The only way to do it? By starting to live as though you love
yourself. By making a commitment to be kind to yourself and by not letting
anything stand in your way. By setting aside time for yourself daily. By
being vigilant about acting on your own behalf. By beginning today.
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