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(more or less)
Weight is a weird thing, and diet, and body image, and all the messages that give conflicting imperatives. My own gendered perspective often means I feel more, rather than less, susceptible to this stuff. I get the (generally "girly", or acutely subcultural and often suspicious) imperative for thinness, but with the special added bonus of more, but only in specific, culturally approved and sexualized areas. But I also feel the assigned value of physical capability, specifically in my case, strength. It's a weird mess of mixed signals.
Since I've changed my eating habits, I've lost around twenty pounds, and all in around a year. The upper limits of near 185 were starting to feel physically uncomfortable; I could feel a difference in my neck, of all places, even though it may not have been visible. It wasn't a happy place for me. But now, on the downward slope of 165, I'm starting to worry about losing too much, about maybe reverting to the skeletal thinness that I had for much of my life, and I don't want that, either.
It's strange, because the volume of food I eat has roughly doubled, but most of it is whole ingredients, little processed, and very little animal fat. I generally don't like sugary sweet or creamy food, which has served me well for years, but now is starting to be the beginnings of a problem. I feel much better, physically, than I've felt in years: more energy, more resilient, more aware of my surroundings, and generally healthier.
But the weight loss is... complicated. There's an almost disturbing satisfaction I feel at watching the scale go lighter. Some of this likely feeds into the girly imperative to thinness, and some of it ties into my own special abnegation of the flesh, both of which I can see might lead me to some messed up places if pursued to the specious but logical ends of their respective paths. And, clothing is fitting differently. I don't have pants that fit any more, and I'm wearing all my belts on their tightest hole. Heck, even the custom corset I had made from eight years ago is too easy to lace all the way, and has lost some of the frisson of compression. This is all just... weird.
Weight is a weird thing, and diet, and body image, and all the messages that give conflicting imperatives. My own gendered perspective often means I feel more, rather than less, susceptible to this stuff. I get the (generally "girly", or acutely subcultural and often suspicious) imperative for thinness, but with the special added bonus of more, but only in specific, culturally approved and sexualized areas. But I also feel the assigned value of physical capability, specifically in my case, strength. It's a weird mess of mixed signals.
Since I've changed my eating habits, I've lost around twenty pounds, and all in around a year. The upper limits of near 185 were starting to feel physically uncomfortable; I could feel a difference in my neck, of all places, even though it may not have been visible. It wasn't a happy place for me. But now, on the downward slope of 165, I'm starting to worry about losing too much, about maybe reverting to the skeletal thinness that I had for much of my life, and I don't want that, either.
It's strange, because the volume of food I eat has roughly doubled, but most of it is whole ingredients, little processed, and very little animal fat. I generally don't like sugary sweet or creamy food, which has served me well for years, but now is starting to be the beginnings of a problem. I feel much better, physically, than I've felt in years: more energy, more resilient, more aware of my surroundings, and generally healthier.
But the weight loss is... complicated. There's an almost disturbing satisfaction I feel at watching the scale go lighter. Some of this likely feeds into the girly imperative to thinness, and some of it ties into my own special abnegation of the flesh, both of which I can see might lead me to some messed up places if pursued to the specious but logical ends of their respective paths. And, clothing is fitting differently. I don't have pants that fit any more, and I'm wearing all my belts on their tightest hole. Heck, even the custom corset I had made from eight years ago is too easy to lace all the way, and has lost some of the frisson of compression. This is all just... weird.
