Weighting

I'll get to it as soon as I lose 20 pounds

For me, the dieting nightmare began the summer of my junior year in college. I wasn’t overweight. But I weighed more than I had in high school – I was maybe up 10 pounds – and became intrigued when some women at work were doing the Scarsdale Diet with great success. So, I bought the paperback book – I think I still know the diet by heart—and dug in.
Day One: toast for breakfast, turkey and tomatoes for lunch (all you want), and so on.
The big prize: cheese day on Friday. It was pre-Atkins, high protein, starvation bullshit.
I followed it to the letter and lost 13 pounds in 14 days. Awesome. But impossible to sustain. And I’m sure this diet knocked the crap out of my metabolism. This, and a very unhealthy college lifestyle resulted in me gaining 25 pounds the next year. Then, in the spring of my senior year, I was diagnosed with Graves’ Disease even though I was technically high-thyroid. Lucky me. I was one of the small percentage who gain weight with an overactive thyroid gland.
Don’t worry. I lost the weight. For a graduation gift, my mom gave me a 2-month session at the Diet Center, where you follow their plan and come in for weekly weigh-ins and a chat with a counselor. I can’t blame my mother for this one – I asked for this as a gift. I did not want to be a chubby college grad. Oddly, I wasn’t worried about my career. A temp job would do for the time being. The most important thing was not to be fat. This was the non-subtle signal I got from the world around me, especially my peers and family. OK, now I am blaming my mother.

Before I got started at the Diet Center, Mom and I attended the wake of my dear friend’s mother, who had died suddenly when my friend was just 22 years old. We were paying our respects, walking past the casket when my friend’s dad said to me, “MaryBeth! Hello. I didn’t recognize you…”
It was reasonable he would say this. I hadn’t seen him in several years. But my mother heard, “Hello. I didn’t recognize you because you have become obese.”
Mom then began to explain to him that, and I quote: “Her bigness is not her fault. She has thyroid disease…”
I was mortified. The man just lost his wife. My friend lost her mom. There she was, lying in state. No one cared about my hormones or that I had to buy a black dress in a larger than usual size.

At home, I endured some expected teasing from my older brother, who made great sport out of covering his plate if I walked in when he was eating probably his sixth sandwich of the afternoon. Weight was not an issue for him – the large amounts he consumed was immediately burned off by his incredibly speedy metabolism. Then once – and only once that I recall—my Pop made a joke. And it crushed me. He was always kind, always made me feel beautiful and loved. But he slipped and when we were talking about art history at the dinner table, I went back for seconds of ice cream and he asked if I wanted to be a Rubens woman. (For non- art historians, Peter Paul Rubens was a Flemish Baroque painter who favored larger, curvy female subjects).
I remember this moment – again, it was a blip—when my male friends ask if they should mention to their daughter that she’s gained some weight. Don’t do it. She knows. She doesn’t need to hear it from you.

Obviously, this is a rich topic as I’ve only gotten to age 22 in my personal dieting timeline. I’d like to report that at age 61, I’m completely at peace with my body image and my physical self but I’d be lying.
I have made improvements, though. (Pause for some of my friends to heckle me).
I would never do the Scarsdale Diet now, so give me that! I’m at least aware if I say something disparaging about my appearance and try to knock it off. I eat mostly healthy and exercise is crucial to me and not in an obsessive, burning calories way. It’s a lifeline for emotional well-being and feeling healthy. So, there’s that.

When I think of women I know in their 20s and 30s, I wish I could give them the gift of not constantly thinking about their weight for the next few decades. About 10 years ago, there was a commercial featuring a woman swimming laps and the voice in her head plays on a loop, “You’ve got to lose 10 pounds…those jeans don’t fit…I wish I hadn’t eaten that cupcake…” So impactful. Think of all the things we could do (cure cancer, write the Great American Novel, be happy) if that voice simply stopped.

I was hoping we’ve made progress in this regard—younger women being more accepting of their bodies—but when I talked to my friend Sandy Knox about this recently, she said, “I’m afraid it’s still a thing. Thanks social media!”

Just when we thought a new generation might be transformed by a body acceptance movement, and more inclusive images of all shapes and sizes of women in the media, they’re made to contend with a fresh batch of FOMO (fear of me overweight – I just made that up).

What gives me hope? Telling stories and hearing from women like Sandy, a songwriter who recently released Weighting, an audio book/musical project that explores the psychological side of body image and pressure that women endure to look a certain way.

“We will all meet the love of our lives, reside in a perfect fairytale existence and achieve complete and total world peace…just as soon as we lose 20 pounds,” Sandy says.

What woman hasn’t thought this? I have said it. I have believed it. If I could give a gift to my twenty-something niece and my 3-year-old great niece, I would purge this idea from their minds and hearts.

Let’s give each other grace. Grace to my mom who was dealing with a generational view of beauty and a woman’s self worth. Grace to Sandy’s mom, a model whose claim to fame was not gaining weight after she had children. Compassion to them, but more importantly, let’s break the cycle for women now.

Wear a bathing suit. Go to the reunion. Go on a date. Even if you’re 10 pounds heavier than you were this time last year. Do not wait.

This essay was inspired by a recent episode of the podcast, Let’s Talk Ladies: Conversations Across Generations. We’d love for you to listen!

Weighting with guest Sandy Knox available on Spotify, Apple Podcasts and YouTube.