I was on the treadmill this morning running my morning mile when my parents woke up and came downstairs to join me. I felt good, having run a good mile in a decent time and decided to join them outside. They were in town for a night on their way home from Baltimore. I was doing my little dumbbell routine that I do every morning on the deck while they were sitting and pulling on their morning cigarette.

My father looks at me and said, “Ya know Jennifer, I don’t understand, you work out everyday and you don’t eat a lot. Why aren’t you skinny?”

I felt like I had been punched in the stomach. “Gee, Dad thanks for the shot of self esteem this morning.” Is what I thought. Instead of saying that of course I started making excuses for why I wasn’t “skinny” I am only 5’3, my body type is more athletic etc. All of this followed by my mother quickly sticking up for me and then a nice awkward pause. My father then said well there was a time when you were skinny. I blurted out “Well Dad, that was only when I was bulimic and very sick in my disease. This is my body healthy and it is what it is. I will never be a skinny girl.” That ended the conversation. My father knows of my illnesses, for crying out loud he lived and read the book!!!! He knows that I was horribly bulimic. He knows that I lived on cocaine rather than solid meals. It amazes me that he would still say stuff like that to me after all these years and all that we have been through!

As I got ready for work and looked in the mirror, I began critiquing every aspect of my appearance and found myself just disgusted. I had to catch myself quickly before I let those old tapes begin to play in my head. “You’re not good enough, you’re fat, you’re ugly” those tapes that use to drive me to mistreat my body, to binge and purge and self loathe.

It is so sad to me that still after 33 years I can allow another person to influence the way I feel about myself. Having my father says these things to me of course adds a whole extra layer of hurt to it. I am not a fat girl! I am a beautiful woman. I decided a while ago that I will take care of my body.

I run.

I do Yoga etc.

But I will not diet; I refuse to count calories, weigh my food, attempt fads, and take pills or anything else.

Instead, I honor my stomach; I listen to it and feed it when it is hungry.

I do not deny myself of urges nor do I overindulge. I simply eat what I like. This comes at a sacrifice yes but I am happy most of the time. In order for me to be a size four, I have to starve myself and deny myself the foods I enjoy. While that may offer me an occasionally jump for joy when I can slip on my skinny jeans with ease—it still sucks to give up so much.

God, I have already given up so much! I don’t eat meat, I don’t drink soda, I gave up alcohol, drugs etc.

By working out and eating what I want I stay around a size six. In my humble opinion, a size six is pretty damn good given that the average woman is a size twelve! I thank god that I am in recovery and have tools to deal with statements like this because twelve years ago what my father said to me would have sent me down a path of self destruction that would have been anything but healthy.