The case for letting yourself go

A little something on eating, women's health, acceptance, happiness and being full.

It’s always with a negative connotation, “Wow, she really let herself go.” We let ourselves go after a break up, we let ourselves go in a relationship. Eating to our heart’s content. Sharing meals with our lovers, our friends, our families. Experiencing a moment of healing and happiness over a home cooked meal or leftover sesame chicken straight from the fridge. No longer seeking the approval of a world outside of ourselves, but always seeking the same outcome; to be full.

In October of last year, I had undergone surgery to remove some uterine fibroids. Unbeknownst to me, they had been plaguing my life in obscure ways for years. Since my early teens, I had experienced digestive problems that I thought were a result of a mystery food allergy, a sensitivity to fiber, an overactive vagus nerve triggering rapid emptying (you name it, I self-diagnosed it all). Years of discomfort ensued. Emergency bathroom visits became the regular. I developed a severely negative relationship with food, led overall, by a fear of being full.

Indulgence had become my enemy. Feeling too full sent warning signs to my brain and alarm bells ringing through my digestive tract. I spent years mastering my body and my eating habits. I reinforced the idea that I could allow myself to get full enough to sustain the day, but never go beyond that. And this would be my relationship with food for years (with low energy and thinning hair that I passed off as normal aging, and masked with more fancy vitamins and more supplements).

At 32, I received a diagnosis of uterine fibroids after my doctor discovered a curiously large lump on my right side. An ultrasound and one MRI later revealed that I had many, and they had likely been developing for years, pressing on my other organs and leaving little room for anything to expand properly, let alone, food.

An open myomectomy was scheduled for later that year.

It was only a few weeks into my recovery that I realized this was the best decision I could’ve made for my own quality of life.

I had expected the normal symptoms to alleviate, the lighter periods, relief from the constant bladder pressure (I had been carrying about 3 pounds of extra mass in my lower belly, yikes!). But what I hadn’t expected was the arrival of an appetite I wasn’t familiar with.

I’m now five months post-op, and I’ve outgrown all of my jeans.

I’m in a new relationship, and I’ve lost my job (I’ll touch on that identity crisis a lot more as we get to know each other), and for the first time in my adult life, I’m eating beyond the need for survival and allowing myself to feel full.

It’s nice to no longer treat my body as something that exists only to serve me, but instead to treat it as me. In this period of transition especially, while I seek out new hobbies and interests, and continue on this path of self-exploration; I deserve to be happy and well nourished.

So I’m letting myself go. I’m eating until I’m full, and even a little bit more.

Like any woman of the internet age, it’s a curious thing to see my body change and grow when its been one way for so long, but I’m coming to terms with it. This is womanhood.

I try to limit myself from looking at old photos, which has led me to rethink the hold that instagram has had over me, that’s also something I’d love to talk more about here.

And I’m exploring new recipes, finding a joy for cooking now that I have more time. I’d love to share more about that here to. So check back to see how it’s going.

Wish you all happiness and fullness! Go let yourself go.

Love,

Ardita