No More Playing Small
Saying goodbye to the chest of clothes that don’t fit anymore, and other things I’m letting go of during my eating disorder recovery.
TW: explicit discussion of eating disorders and body dysmorphia. It’s okay to skip this week if you need to ❤️
My ‘Oy with the Poodles Already!’ Gilmore Girls T-shirt no longer fits me comfortably. Neither does my ‘In Omnia Paratus’ one. They’re tight in the sleeves, and cling to my forearms. I want to snap my fingers and shrink my torso so that I can fit into them like I used to.
But I can’t do that. I’ve outgrown them. And that is a bitter pill to swallow.
I refuse to part with these beloved shirts. I’ll save them for my future children, or turn them into artwork, or maybe just keep them as a souvenirs.
But I can’t do that with all of the clothes I’ve outgrown. All of the old clothes that don’t fit my new body. My new, healthier, bigger body. The body that holds more weight because I am eating healthily for the first time in my adult life. The body that I am building each day, as I recover from an eating disorder that I thought I left behind years ago.
I developed an eating disorder in late middle school that lasted through early college. I read about the struggles that Hannah faces with bulimia in the book and television series, Pretty Little Liars. I was curious. I loved the idea of control. I quickly gravitated towards the ideals of thinness.
I didn’t have bulimia though. I had what was referred to as a Not Otherwise Specified Eating Disorder, at the time. It’s now called an Otherwise Specified Feeding and Eating Disorder.*
*I wrote all about my thoughts on this diagnosis, in a playwright’s note here. Bear in mind that I wrote this in 2018 - there has been a lot of development on how we view these kinds of disorders - both in society and in the DSM! (Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders)
For years, I starved myself and closely obsessed over everything that I ate. I even went so far as to become a vegetarian so that I would have a justifiable excuse to cut out more from my diet. I was weak; I came close to fainting several times. I would throw a fit if I didn’t fit into a size 2 in every single store I shopped in. I worked so hard to control my hunger that I actually lost the sensation of being hungry. I was so proud of myself, for stomping out my hunger with the help of all kinds of dietary supplements from CVS. I felt horrible. But I loved the way I looked. I loved my sick, frail, thin body. I loved being small.
I saw multiple therapists during this time, and a nutritionist for a minute, but for the large part, life went on as usual during these years. There were months when my doctor and family focused on my eating disorder intensely, and months when I got to slide under the radar and pretend all was well. I didn’t eat breakfast or lunch for the majority of 10th grade. When I did eat, I became a master of small portions. One summer, I became addicted to high intensity Zumba workouts, so I let myself eat a little more than usual since I was exercising so much.
Somewhere between freshman and sophomore year of college, I decided that I didn’t have a problem anymore. I was pretty depressed for the duration of sophomore year. In some ways, I was so distracted by that issue that I didn’t have as much energy to focus on thinness. I stayed thin nonetheless. And I was pretty happy about that.
(After eventually recovering from that depressive episode, I also thought that I would never be depressed again. Think again, 19 year old Alexa.)
There are many, many factors that went into my depression recovery, and my focus on healthier eating, that I’ll get into another time. But for now, all you need to know is that by senior year I thought I was cured, healed, and every other cliche you can think of. Ironically, a big part of my recovery from depression included exercise. Who doesn’t love endorphins? Give me all the endorphins! Because I didn’t love the idea of fainting after every workout, I actually became obsessed with properly fueling my body. In my head, I was the picture of health.
Little did my younger self know, that you can actually go from being completely unhealthy to being too “healthy”; I was still holding myself up to an unrealistic set of ideals. I still wanted to be thin, but I tricked myself into thinking that excessive exercise and hyper focus on a healthy new age diet was actually what was best for me. I drank so much green juice. I was obsessed with being the best rider at my spin class, and needed my teacher’s compliments and approval like Tinkerbell needed applause to live.
On the outside, everything was fine. I convinced myself, and everyone around me that I was fine. And I didn’t think it was a lie. I really believed I was fine.
And then, a little under a year ago, I offhandedly told my somewhat new therapist about my spin days, and how I used to frequently work out 2x in one day, back to back like it was no big deal.
I slowly revealed more and more about my eating habits, that I had somehow never mentioned to her before. Things that my past therapists had never blinked an eye at.
And that’s how the cracks slowly but surely began to show. I realized pretty quickly that I had actually never recovered from my eating disorder. I just got really, really good at hiding it.
I typically listen to every single Glennon Doyle episode the day that it drops. But when she came out with one about her own eating disorder recovery this past January, I didn’t listen to it for about a month. I think it was because I knew that there would be no going back, once I heard her speak about this topic so vulnerably, as I knew she would.
But eventually I listened. And I held my head in my hands. And the waves of realization washed over me, like a summer storm that comes out of nowhere and looks like it could truly go on forever.
This section in particular, shook me to my core.
I have gained weight, like just factually I have gained weight…I had this amazing day that I want to talk about now that I went to get dressed and I tried to put on one of my pairs of jeans and they wouldn’t fit. And I looked at my closet and I just had this moment of, “Oh my God, everything in my closet is so fucking tight. All of my jeans are so tight.” At this point, I’d probably gained five pounds or something, and I couldn’t wear any of my clothes…I gained five pounds and I couldn’t wear any of my clothes. Why? I looked at my closet and suddenly it turned into this nefarious line. My jeans were lined up. I was like, “They’re like a line of fucking police people.” I have created my closet in a way that reminds me every single damn day don’t you step out of line.
-Glennon Doyle
Sitting on the edge of my tub in the bathroom, where I have most of my breakthroughs, I realized that my pants also felt too tight. They fit, but they were really tight. And if I entered real recovery, with real accountability, my tight clothes would only get tighter. My clothes would feel smaller. And I would feel bigger.
I was devastated. And at the same time, amazed that I could even make this observation. Because it felt like awareness. It felt like embodiment. It felt like the first step towards waking up from the disembodied state that I’ve been for years, and years, and years.
Luckily, I found a dietician who I clicked with pretty quickly. (Perhaps karma from the universe, in return for some of the bad luck I had with therapists in my adolescence.) And oh man, did we have a lot of work to do. A lot of negative self talk to examine. A lot of habits to break. A lot of food to incorporate back into my diet.
My dietician very quickly learned that my harshness and judgment and restriction only applies to me. When she tried to explain to me that size does not correlate to health, I quickly agreed with her and told her that we could “skip this part.” That I know that there are many people who weigh more than me who are stronger than me, and healthier than me (both physically and mentally.)
So if I feel this way about people I don’t even know, why was it so hard for me to look in the mirror when I myself started getting bigger in my eating disorder recovery?
I have spent money on clothes that are policing my body…I don’t want clothes that give me any feedback about my body. I don’t want fucking feedback from my fucking inanimate clothes.
-Glennon Doyle
Every time I outgrow an item of clothing, I tuck it away in a corner of my closet. I tucked my blue skin tight yoga pants in the corner next to the Gilmore Girls shirts, tenderly and with care. I tossed my prom dress, which I also wore to my senior formal in college, into the chest, along with my graduation dress, and a pair of shorts I bought just last summer. They are relics from a past life that I know I can never go back to, and surprisingly no longer want to.
And yet, I still miss parts of me that are gone. I also weirdly miss parts of me that are still here - parts of me that I thought would disappear when I started my slow and long farewell to my eating disorder. The parts of me I thought existed because I was thin.
For a while, I wore the same few items over and over again, because I was embarrassed to buy bigger clothes. I was embarrassed by my embarrassment. Desperate to see myself in a new light, but not quite out of the darkness. Crawling though, slowly but surely.
I hold a vision of my future self in my head. I think about how much I long to be her.
She ears burrata without abandon.
She orders as much dessert as she wants.
She sometimes splits an eggplant parmesan hero sandwich with her best friend - not because she’s restricting, but because that’s what her body intuitively wants.
She is someone who know what her body intuitively wants, because she knows how to listen to her body.
She eats endless tacos with her west coast friends at her kitchen table, and laughs when one of them tells her that east coast avocados have nothing on California’s. More guac for me, she says while taking another bite.
She won’t restrict tomorrow, because of all the food she ate today.
She takes up space, and lets herself expand. She has the same compassion and fierce protectiveness for her body that she so willingly extends to those around her.
Recently, I took a really big step in my recovery. I decided to replace the clothes that don’t fit anymore. I decided it was finally time to go shopping.
(Or really, my wardrobe decided for me. The shelves were getting pretty bare. Did I wear the same jumpsuit three days in a row? I work from home. Literally no on will ever know.)
My dietician recommended that I work with a personal shopper, so that I could try on new pieces and be styled by someone who could help me feel good about myself again. I’ve only done this once before, when I was much younger and in a hugely different headspace. I was nervous, but I said that I’d try it.
In the online form that I filled out for this particular store, there were a few basic questions about style. And then, a box where you could provide additional information. I wrote my personal shopper a full essay on my background. Typical writer, right? Here’s an excerpt -
I’ve gained a significant amount of weight recently, while recovering from a lengthy eating disorder, and as a result - a lot of my clothes don’t fit anymore. Something I’ve learned throughout my recovery, is that most of my clothes are tight fitting, and make me feel self-conscious about my body shape and weight (this was true before I started recovery, even when I was thinner than I am now.)
I want to prioritize both fashion and comfort in this new season of my life, in my new and much healthier body. Feeling good about my wardrobe is going to be a huge step in my recovery.
I used to LOVE shopping, but it’s been really difficult to shop for myself, now that my body has changed. I’m really grateful for your help, and know that this is going to be a wonderful, incredibly positive experience!
I did not know that this was going to be a wonderful, incredibly positive experience. I was bluffing. I was people pleasing.
But you know what? I was right. It was.
I could not have chosen a better person to help me. Rachel* was simply exceptional. It was like having a knowledgeable best friend who you want with you every time you shop; someone you are instantly at ease with, who will be honest with you, have your back, and make you feel and look amazing.
*Not her real name, for her privacy and mine! But we both love Rachel Greene from friends so consider this an homage.
That one hour trying on new clothes, being open about my struggles and insecurities, and learning what compliments my new body, gave me more body confidence than I have ever had in my entire life. It was incredibly emotional, empowering, and quite frankly pivotal. I looked in the mirror at one point and thought, I am a person worth taking seriously. I deserve to feel confident. I deserve to feel good about myself. I wish that everyone could have an experience like this.
The clothes didn’t do all the work. I have done a lot of inner work in eating disorder recovery that I’ll go into more detail about another time.
But the clothes really, really helped me to accept, embrace, and celebrate - not just tolerate - my new body. The wavy stretch marks on my thighs. The extra weight in my stomach. On the scale, which I don’t pay nearly as much attention anymore. Tip - you can ask them not to read the number on the scale to you at the doctor anymore.
Oh and speaking of doctors - I’m getting a new PCP, because my current one had the audacity to tell me that “she wasn’t concerned yet, but it was better when I weighed less.”
I was not better when I was smaller. When I was making myself sick.
I am done playing small. I am meant for bigger things. And I’m growing more comfortable with my bigger body, every day.
When talking about how I want my clothes to feel, I told Rachel that I want clothes that hold me, but don’t hold me back.
Held and free. In life and in clothing.
I haven’t given away the chest of clothes that don’t fit anymore, but I did move them into bags. Really big bags. It’s quite a collection. I plan to do a mix of selling and donating, and would love some suggestions. For donations, I really would love to find a variety of places where I can have the most impact on communities that need them most.
Because as Glennon says, there is no such thing as one way liberation. These clothes may have constrained me, but they’ll free someone else, and make them feel beautiful. Which is exactly what we all deserve.
And when I say we, I’m finally talking about myself too.
So proud of you, Alexa! Congratulations! This is a huge victory <3