Gone are the sad days of eating greasy food to cure a debilitating hangover. Welcome are the good days of eating sugar for the sake of having an insatiable sweet tooth.
content warning: eating disorders and self-injurious behavior
I have thinned out since I stopped drinking. This wasn’t why I stopped, but I can’t help but notice the changes in my face. Looking back on photos from one year ago, my cheeks were plump and permanently flushed. If you were to place those photos next to a photo of me today, it would look as if I had swallowed and been stung by a bee.
Other parts of me, such as my arms and legs, are skinnier now because I started running twenty miles a week. I haven’t weighed myself in four or five years, and if I did step on the scale now, I’m not sure the numbers would reflect such a drastic change from last year. I may have lost the plump cheeks, but I have hopefully gained that weight back in the form of leg muscle. I don’t care to find out if this is true though. As someone who has recovered from an eating disorder, I have learned that scales only bring misery. I now listen to how my body feels rather than pay attention to a number presented to me on a small metal box that I step on. I found it was too easy to give power to that number; I would base too many decisions throughout my day because of that number. The number would always be on my mind, taunting me.
While I was drinking, I remember how hard it was to make the number smaller. It became impossible, in fact. As well as aging and my body reflecting that perfectly normal change with added weight, drinking wine daily kept me at an wildly unsatisfying number. It was ten pounds more than what was printed on my driver’s license. It drove me crazy, that at the age of 26, I weighed ten pounds more than I did when I was 16. I was ridiculous. And all the while, I was pounding wine as if it were water. At one point, I was twenty pounds more than the number on my driver’s license. Now, this weight I could really see and feel. I was unhappy with it, which led me to drinking and eating my way into further unhappiness. There was a brief moment that I relapsed with my eating disorder, something I had put behind me after a bad breakup. But that didn’t make me feel any better. I tried instead to run off the unwelcome LBs.
I began putting minimum effort into working out. And it helped me exponentially more than an eating disorder ever could. Not physically, per se. I was still drinking, so I didn’t lose much weight. The change was mostly mental: I felt the thrill of accomplishment and rush of endorphins after a jog rather than shame and pity after exiting a bathroom. I still refused to use a scale, and instead paid close attention to how my body felt. I tended to eat healthier throughout the day after a morning run. I slept better after pushing my body to its limit. My desire to be healthy and feel happy started to battle with my desire to drink and be drunk.
Before I got sober, my workout routine was lazy and inconsistent. I could barely walk my dog after a night of binge-drinking let alone run five miles. But I noticed the joy that working out gifted me as opposed to the depression that drinking dumped on me.
Now that I’m nearly 11 months sober, I look in a mirror and notice my face looks lighter. My skin is brighter. My happiness is palpable. I have finally lost the baggage I was unhappily lugging around for so many years. I run often, but also feed my new and ravenous sweet tooth with cookies, pancakes and cereal nearly every day.
I am no longer wishing to see my number get smaller. But I am happy to know and feel that I have finally lost the unbearable weight of drinking.
I checked my inbox last night to make sure I hadn’t missed one of your newsletters. I am someone who is considering sobriety, but doesn’t want to burden others with a decision that should be completely and wholeheartedly personal. I genuinely look forward to your eloquently shared experiences as I navigate my own relationship with my habits, health, and healing. You give me something to look forward to. Thank you.