Body Image Part... I don't even know anymore

Photo credit Travis Cottreau from Poetry in Motion

Last year I posted over on the Little Miss Autoimmune Facebook page about how starting a new medication had helped me get some control over my stomach issues, and as a result I’d been able to regain a kilo and keep it on for a couple of weeks. This seemed (at the time) to signify my stomach problems were a thing of the past.

Well, that’s the problem with counting milestones when it comes to chronic illness. There’s no end point to these diseases, and as such everything is changeable. The good and bad states are only ever temporary… a fact that can be both a source of comfort and a source of fear if you let it. Not long after posting about that kilo weight gain, I re-lost it… and five others.

Despite this, last week I realised I’d come to a good place with my body image. I felt like how I saw myself in my mind was starting to match up with what I saw in the mirror and in photos, rather than my real image being a constant surprise after all the changes my body has been through. More than that, I actually felt I liked the way I looked – when a friend complimented me on a photo someone had posted, I could think “yeah, that is a nice photo” rather than immediately assuming they were saying that to make me feel better about what must actually be a bad photo.

Then in the way of life: Happy with your body image? Enter chronic illness.

Since that photo was taken, I’ve lost three kilos – enough weight that I’m going to need to get a belt for my jeans to avoid accidental indecent exposure. It was only a week ago. The day this photo was taken, I’d seen my doctor about something unrelated and happened to mention that I thought I was losing weight again, so she got me on the scales. In the week since, things went from “I think I might be losing weight” to “I’m so sick I must have food poisoning” to “how can food poisoning last this long…? oh wait, it’s a fricken' flare.” I hate that after all the years, medication, attempts at alternative therapies and diets, this is still happening. I hate that it happened the moment I started to feel good about myself, and I hate that I still feel like I’m going to have to justify to people why this isn’t a good thing.

Maybe that last part is in my head. The people I’ve mentioned the weight loss to, all reacted with variations of “oh, that’s not good” so perhaps people won’t assume weight loss at any cost is a good thing (or perhaps I just have all my friends well trained!)

I hope that I can continue to feel good about myself, even if my body changes again. The weight loss this time probably isn’t significant enough for me to actually look any different, however, the last couple of days my thought process has been something like this: “Maybe I should try eat more, so I don’t lose too much weight. But what if I over-shoot and start gaining weight? Really Helen? Are you actually worried about that right now? But if I lose too much weight, I’ll probably look really weird. Wait… Are you actually thinking this? Are you really simultaneously fat and skinny shaming yourself, while buying into superficial garbage about your appearance instead of concentrating on your health? What is the matter with you?!”

The reality is, I cannot control my weight right now. All I can do is eat whatever doesn’t make me feel sick, avoid foods which I know make the weight loss worse, and just hope that at least some of what goes into my stomach actually gets absorbed. Like all the illness stuff, this episode will be temporary. There’s a really good chance the weight I’ve lost will come back on once my stomach settles, and I’ll be back to where I was. I just hope that whatever happens I can feel okay about it and stop placing so much importance on a number on a scale. Weight gain or weight loss, I know very well that if this was happening to a friend, I would be assuring them that they are worth so much more than that, so I’m going to try show myself that same kindness.

Thanks for reading, 
Little Miss Autoimmune

Body Image Part Two

A while ago, I blogged about the reactions people have to the weight-loss I’ve experienced with my diseases. In the year since I posted this, my stomach problems have gotten considerably worse, and I have continued to loose weight. In the last six months alone, I have lost around 15% of my body weight.

I get a lot of comments on this. The comment I hate the most “It’s good to see you looking so healthy.” What this actually means is: “it’s good to see you looking thin.” If you are reading this, please understand there is a difference between the word “Healthy” and the word “Thin.” Please try not to use them interchangeably, unless you are absolutely sure that this is the case.

It’s hard to explain to people why this is a problem. I’m sure many people would think loosing a substantial amount of weight without having to put any effort in would be a dream come true. I was quite overweight to start with, and so from many people’s point of view, this is a good thing. Though I am considerably smaller than I was, I'm not actually underweight, so from the outside I probably do look healthy.

I’ve made a point to react to these comments with an explanation of the fact that this weight loss is in fact not healthy. I’ve refused to accept compliments that include mention of my weight, nor any praise about the weight loss. This reaction baffles people. They cannot understand why I don’t just accept their comments. They often become more insistent, assuring me it doesn’t matter that I’m sick because I look so good now.

It’s an effort for me have these conversations. It would be so easy for me to just say “thanks” and let them think this is a good thing, but I don’t deserve praise for this. Loosing weight to improve your general health is usually something people have to dedicate time and effort to. That hard work (if done healthily) does deserve praise, but I haven’t done any of it. I strongly feel that if I don’t refute these comments, I am contributing to the body-image problems so so many people struggle with. If people believe that my experience is “worth it” it’s not a big leap to saying that recreating that experience with a box of laxatives or intentional vomiting is also “worth it.” It’s not. It’s dangerous, and no-one should ever be made to feel so bad about the way they look to think that this is a solution.

This is a hard post for me to write. When I posted about my weight the last time, I was very clear in how I felt. In the last few months, I’ve felt my own body image getting distorted. It takes me longer to get ready in the morning, as I find myself standing in from of the mirror feeling unsure of myself. I find myself plucking at my stomach and thinking “if I just lost a little more.” I’ve had thoughts of not wanting to get better, because then I’ll regain the weight, and that little voice creeps in saying it’s “worth it.”

It is not worth it. I saw my GP on Tuesday, and she was very concerned by the symptoms I described. She immediately referred me to a gastroenterologist, and said it was important that I go privately, as the hospital system will take too long. In fact she was baffled that my rheumy hadn’t done referred me already, but that’s another story. In the past she has celebrated any weight loss with me. This time, she could tell as soon as she saw me that the weight loss was not normal.

This weight loss comes at a high price. My hair is falling out, my skin is gross, and I have to plan my days around the times I know my stomach will be at its worst. Sometimes it changes its mind, and I am running back and forth to the bathroom all day, unable to leave the house. I often wake several times a night because my stomach hurts, and I get hot flushes and dizzy spells every time I eat. Most of all, I feel really really sick.

For me, feeling good is more important than looking good, but I realised something significant the other day. I actually didn’t feel bad about how I looked before anyway.

Thanks for reading 
Little Miss Autoimmune