I have made it abundantly clear since I started sharing my story with you, that I have an eating disorder.

Or should I say, I had an eating disorder.

I have been pursuing recovery since I first graced the doorstep of my psychologist in 2015 and I can say with absolute certainty that I have reached a very happy place when it comes to my relationship with food.

Two inpatient eating disorder stays taught me a lot. I don’t know why it took so long for recovery to really settle upon my shoulders – or whether in fact, eight years is a short time in the context of a lifetime of disordered eating. But I do know my relationship with food is now really happy and healthy.

I CANNOT SAY THE SAME FOR MY BODY

Wrapped up in the little parcel of eating disorder hell, is the relationship with my body. Not everyone with an eating disorder has body image issues, but a fair whack of us do. I would even go so far as to say most women have some kind of issue with their body, believing it’s the wrong shape or size, colouring not quite right, or bone structure not perfect. Collectively as a society, we crave the photoshopped airbrushed perfection of two-dimensional images – images that rarely even accurately represent the original subject of the photograph.

Out in the real world bodies are round and soft and firm and crooked and tall and petite and scarred and wrinkly and saggy and flabby. Full of folds and crevices. Speckled with freckles, moles, stray hairs and cellulite. That’s what the human body looks like and for the most part, we are very accepting of reality in other people. When I look at another person I see the spark in their eyes or the sad droop of their shoulders. I admire their intelligence or their quirky laugh. Passion, kindness, softness and strength inspire me. I don’t seek out people for their bone structure or percentage of body fat. I’m sure you’re the same.

BUT I HOLD A DOUBLE STANDARD FOR MYSELF

The story about how my body hatred came to be is long and convoluted. I even wrote a book about it if you’d like to know more. But at the end of the day, it is what it is and I have to live with the way things are right now.

I am no longer prepared to starve, purge and exercise my body into submission. Even on the darkest bad hair days I still choose mental health over psychological comfort. But I feel that discomfort – really acutely.

I am big now. Fat is the word that best describes my body. I don’t say that with judgment – merely observation. After five decades of dieting, my body has learned to store fat. It was so deprived for so long, now it clings to fat like a drowning woman on a flotsam of wreckage. My body has been exactly the same size for nearly three years. With normal, healthy, consistent nutrition and some regular activity, this is how I look. This is the final result of years of dieting – I am bigger than when I started.

If you are the kind of person that likes to diet let me just categorically state here and now that in my opinion (opinion – not research) dieting leads to long-term weight gain. So stop dieting right now and learn to love yourself as is.

THAT IS THE JOURNEY I AM TRYING TO EMBRACE

I am bound to my body for life. We are in it together forever. Hating it has never helped. Loving it is a long uncomfortable step from where I am at now. I have been many sizes and I know that I was uncomfortable in all the sizes. So it turns out the problem is not my body but my thoughts.

I now practice gratitude for my body. It sounds naff – I’ve said that before. But gratitude is something that has been a key component of my psychological healing. The strength in my legs and the willingness for my immune system to heal is a beautiful miracle. I am glad I live without pain and physical discomfort. I am so thankful for the healthy babies I carried, the sex I’ve enjoyed, the songs I have sung, and the mountains I have climbed.

But you know what? Climbing mountains is harder when you’re heavier. It just is. Every limb is weighted compared to someone who is slimmer. And I am struggling to accept this. I begrudge other people’s ease for climbing mountains. I miss the ease with which I could walk uphill without my heart rate spiking uncomfortably.

The thought of gastric bypass surgery crosses my mind on a daily basis. A thought that is abhorrent to all who love me. History would suggest I might do it anyway, just as I had a gastric lap band fitted all those years ago. That didn’t work out so well for me – it became surgical bulimia. I fear a gastric bypass would become surgical anorexia.

I STRUGGLE TO FIND RADICAL ACCEPTANCE

There are psychological mind games sporting at an Olympic level inside my head. What is the reason for me to even consider a surgical intervention with my body? Am I actually just struggling with the fact that I’m “not thin”? Do I believe I will be happier, or healthier, at a lower weight? I ask myself these two questions again and again and I feel like my psychological health is really good. My happiness and health are independent of a number on the scales. I’m really healthy and I am actually pretty happy with my life right now. Losing weight won’t change that. I also know actively pursuing weight loss through dieting will make me unhappy. That is a road I will never travel again.

But I also know mountains are good for me. I love standing on the top looking at the sky on the horizon and the last straggle of trees on the mountain top and the birds flying high above the forests. And I yearn to climb more mountains and I just want it to be easier.

SO I JUGGLE THE WAR IN MY HEAD

My psychological well-being is even more important than mountains so if I decide to pursue a surgical intervention that is my primary focus. It has to be. I was so unwell in 2020 – I never want to go there again.

But life isn’t perfect and learning to live with a body is not easy. I have accepted I will probably never love it. I have learned to be grateful for it. Despite all the years and progress, I am here to confess that there are still days when I hate it but those days are fewer and further between.

I am bound to my body as Severus Snape was bound to Narcissus Malfoy with an unbreakable vow. There is no separation – we are together forever. I have felt fleeting moments of acceptance wrapped up with frustration at the limitations of living in a larger body.

I do not know what the future holds but I do know my mental well-being comes first and foremost. And at the end of the day, no matter what happens, my body and I will still be together.