In the months following my last post, I have often wondered about the negative effects my dieting behavior and decisions surrounding it have had on those closest to me.
EB Hopes She Hasn’t Screwed Up Everyone Around Her with Her Never Ending Mission to Get Smaller
I’d laugh if it weren’t all true. Wait. I’m still laughing. It’s pretty funny. And sad. But funny. So it’s ok. Ish.
I know I have touched on this before, but what I am most scared about…what I feel the most guilt over…is dragging friends, even clients, but especially, my husband on this crazy quest for “health.” I put health in quotes because I don’t care about my health. I mean, it’s a nice side effect, but let’s be honest. What I really want is to be a size 6. I’d settle for 8. I was an 8 for a hot second. Guarantee at the time I still wanted to be smaller. I was just scrolling through old pictures looking for a picture of my mom’s raisin pie of all things (It’s delicious. Don’t knock it til you try it) and happened across some pictures from 2010-11. Damn. What I wouldn’t give to be THAT body again but this time APPRECIATE it.
I digress. My poor husband has done it all with me. From Weight Watchers to Medium Loser (we have a weight loss contest in the house but because we only need to lose a small amount of weight compared to the show, we call it…Medium Loser) to Metabolic Effect to Paleo. From low fat to low cal. From gluten free to alcohol free. He is the most supportive, understanding, loving man I know because seriously, if it were me, I swear I’d tell him to go screw if he said, “Um, honey, we’re going to stop eating pizza because we can’t have bread or cheese for the next 6 months.” He didn’t tell me to go screw. He said, “Ok honey. Let’s do it.” Let’s do every God forsaken, crazy, obsessive, ridiculous plan you come up with if it will make you happier and/or more accepting/loving of your body.