Jaime, our favorite jeans fiend over at the Denim Debutante, is a huge supporter of body positivity and self-love…but every path has its struggles.  This guest post is truly touching, and reminds all of us that every woman – no matter how enviable her body seems – has demons within her.  Keep Jaime’s story in mind, and crush that jealousy of that “perfect” girl walking down the street.  Support all bodies.  Support all women. If you’d like to contact Jaime (or any other guest poster), please write to guestblogger@thedemoiselles.com!

I have a love/hate kind of affair with my weight.

So many women say this… certainly far more than actually should (note: NO women should. None.), but I’ve been there since the beginning. I have an eating problem.

I remember being ten years old and pushing away my plate. I remember the feeling of lying down and crying because my thighs touched.

And, to be perfectly honest, I can’t tell you when it began. It was as if, one day, a light switch flicked on and never went off. I know I was young – younger than many, but older than some – and all I’ve ever wanted was a normal, happy life.

Today, I weigh 110 pounds. The lowest I’ve gotten was a number around 90 that I won’t disclose out of shame and sadness. Those numbers scare me, and I’m not particularly sure why.  I actually hide my weight, or whatever the scale says that day, pretty well (as it turns out, no matter how much weight I lose, my chest is still borderline ridiculous on my frame), but there’s still something so… embarrassing about always worrying about one’s weight.

I know that if someone had pulled me aside when I was seven, eight, nine and said “You are beautiful, just the way you are,” maybe things would have been different. It wasn’t media, it wasn’t a nature versus nurture scenario (though I come from a line of women with disordered eating issues, and I won’t argue that it did play a part in it)… it was me.

I went through therapy, tried hypnosis and pretty much every crackpot thing available (though, therapy is NOT crackpot-esque. That helped me, by far, more than anything else and got me over a lot of personal hurdles) and I can still say that I spend my days counting calories, and my nights concerned about gaining weight.

But, you have to look at it like an alcoholic… or, at least that’s what I’ve been told. You’re always going to be one. You’re always going to have the problem; it’s whether you choose to live or not. Some days are harder than others. Sometimes, I just tell that little voice to go fuck off and I eat a pumpkin muffin that is full fat. Because you can’t wallow forever. You can’t keep struggling to keep your head above water if you don’t want it there.

There are still some weird quirks that I have, like how I have to sleep with a sheet between my thighs or I start panicking. Or how jeans that fit snug but slightly low turn me into a monster who won’t leave my bedroom (a slight problem, since jeans are practically all I wear). But it gets a little bit better every day.

And I’m starting to love myself a little more, no matter what weight I’m at.

To contact Jaime regarding her post, send all feedback to guestblogger@thedemoiselles.com and be sure to visit her over at Denim Debutante!

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If you'd like to send an e-mail to this guest blogger, please write guestblogger@thedemoiselles.com. Want to write for us? We'd love it! E-mail us at info@thedemoiselles.com!

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