Birth control and diet coke. Kryptonite. Work of the devil. Well. I don’t know if I’d go that far, since birth control, until very recently, has kept me from being a Duggar. But this is what I know. Until April, I was on some sort of birth control and was basically drinking diet coke straight from the fountain, which, just so you know, they frown upon at most fast food establishments. I quit bothâ€”cold turkeyâ€”and lost 15 pounds. Now, I will admit that I helped those pounds along with increased activity and decreased baked goods. But I don’t belong to a gym and I certainly don’t believe in cutting food groups because carbs are delicious.
Here’s where I take a break and say that YES, I have lost 15 pounds. But YES, it’s completely normal. YES, the number on the scale is low, but I am basically a midget, and a low number is normal for someone who is under 5 feet, 2 inches
tall short. My BMI is within the healthy range, I still have plenty of discouraging inches to pinch, and I can eat an entire pizza in one sitting. So, nothing to worry about. I might not weigh enough to give blood, but, you know, neither can Peter Dinklage, and I don’t think anyone worries about his possible eating disorders.
I am now going to give a shout-out to all the hoarders out there and wish you had been there the day I had my Mirena IUD inserted. I wish you had told me to keep all of my skinny clothing for this day. Everyone always tells you that keeping your skinny clothing a bad idea, and that it motivates absolutely nothing. Now, I may agree about the motivating thing, but at least I’d have something to put on my body that doesn’t make me look like I’m playing dress-up in someone else’s closet. 15 extra pounds of thigh, ass, and boob used to fit nicely in the rather decent wardrobe I’d built over the years.
If I don’t do something drasticâ€”soonâ€”I’m going to be showing up to work in lululemons and Green Bay Packers t-shirts.
(Related: I probably wouldn’t have a job for very long.)
(Related: GO PACKERS!)
And here’s the thing, you guys. There’s this, well, weirdness when thin people lose weight. I don’t really talk about it much, because, well, I don’t want to be the asshole who’s all “Look at me! I’m so skinny and neener, neener, you’re not! None of my clothes fit me. Oh well, time to go shopping for smaller sizes…that areâ€”OMGâ€”smaller than yours!” which, if we’re being honest and you took one poke around my body image thoughts, you’d know that this is the last thing I am thinking. But, it’s like, here’s this giant elephant in the room, or almost an air ofÂ disapproval.
A few weeks ago, I ran into my bff’s mom. After receiving a positive response to her question of whether I had lost some weight, her immediate response was a very deadpanned, “WHY?”
But you didn’t need to lose weight.
Are you sick?
Are you sure you are eating enough?
Ali, nobody needs to be a size 0.Â
I have worked hard to start taking care of my body. I have worked hard to help fight my genetics. I have worked hard to not have four heart attacks and have high blood pressure like my dad. I have worked hard to make sure that my children aren’t sitting in a hospital waiting room hoping that everything’s going to be okay. I have worked hard to start moving my body. I have worked hard to stop fueling it with Diet Coke and start fueling it with water.
For the first time in a very long time, I am doing everything right…and yet.
Everybody has a right to feel comfortable in their own skin, whether they are a size 22 or a size 2.
Now please stop telling me to eat a sandwich because I can assure you, I am eating sandwiches and hamburgers and chips and pizza and cupcakes and sushi and pasta and grilled cheese. Maybe your services are better spent helping me find some new clothes.