I really have no right to complain about gaining weight. I have spent the past two months eating and drinking to my heart's content. I have torn through jars of peanut butter and Nutella and slid my knife through every unctuous cheese plate I've come across.
The other night I was getting dressed for dinner and found my dresses that normally hang quite loosely were clinging tightly to my skin. Same for my shorts, pants and tops. Curves emerged where they didn't exist before.
Years, or months ago, this could have led to tears. Instead I switched to a looser dress and jacket and went to meet my friend for a couple of glasses of wine at the bar before joining more friends for a three course meal.
It's funny. The things we cling to. The identities we hold onto as our own. For a long time being skinny was really important to me. It was a part of who I was. Something that made me feel special. Different. It gave me a sense of control that I found in my eating disorder, even when I felt I had closed that chapter a long time ago.
Since my life fell apart earlier this year I've put a lot of things into perspective. I know now that I would rather be on my own than with someone who can't love me the way I need them to. That I want to live a life that feels good to me instead of one that looks good on paper. That I want to seize every opportunity and to stop trying to live a teeny tiny perfect life. So maybe it's also time to stop obsessing over the idea of a teeny tiny perfect body.
In the past few months I have broken down barriers and crawled far out of my comfort zone. I have been more social than I've been in years. I have faced fears and tried numerous things. I travelled to LA, Vancouver, London, Northern Ireland, Berlin, and across France.
I used the energy normally used to worry about getting in shape and eating well towards dealing with my emotions and creating the kind of life that excites me.
I know my body will change with whatever is going on in my life. In January I was so stressed out the pounds melted off of my body and friends shot concerned eyes. Now after spending time getting closer to myself and living like a teenager I'm softer all over. Both are okay. I'm just being. And my weight is not the preoccupation of my being.
Over the next few months I plan to drink a lot less, walk a lot more, and love whatever shape my body falls into naturally.
In the meantime I'll embrace these curves and my big sexy life too.