Body Image: The Boobs Edition

Okay wow, I'm totally wiped. The epic weekend certainly delivered in terms of craziness, but everything went well and the chaos was completely worth it. I did a lot of driving in circles, running around in heels, texting/e-mailing/shouting into my phone, etc. At one point yesterday, as I was rushing from First Big Event to Second Big Event, I remember thinking to myself, This is what college is supposed to be about. Attending to a million activities and listening to smart, interesting people talk about exciting projects and scarfing down Subway sandwiches on the go. I don't know about you, but I'm feeling 22.

And a huge part of what allowed the weekend to be a success was the body image piece. Or lack thereof, I should say. Meaning, I ate what I was supposed to, when I was supposed to, and didn't really give it much thought. I put on clothes, noticed that they fit differently than they used to, and got over it. You guys, I don't know how to describe it—because I certainly don't love the way my body looks right now—but it just doesn't seem important. I'm okay with my body. Not in love, but okay. Really, really okay. Sometimes I get uncomfortable with the way my clothes fit now, but mostly I just sort of shrug it off like Well, my body has changed. This is the way I am now. It's actually quite remarkable how much my thinking has changed. Does this mean I'm at my set point? It's about X (more than 3, less than 10—that's all I'm saying) pounds more than the minimum target weight that my treatment team set for me last year, and almost exactly what I weighed as a junior in high school when my ED was essentially a non-issue. In fact, the dress I wore to the formal on Friday night was the same dress I wore to a formal dance when I was 17, and it fit perfectly.

Funny/ironic issue: not only have I gained weight, but my body has totally changed in terms of proportions. I used to be pretty flat-chested, no matter my weight. But sometime over the past few months, during which I started having regular periods and upping my fat intake, I grew boobs. The bra size (32A) I've worn since middle school is getting too small. Maybe this is just part of getting older? Maybe the pseudo-second puberty I went through with getting my period back and firing up all those hormones again changed something about my body chemistry? Who knows? But my point is, sometimes I'll look down at myself in a shirt and will be like: Whoa, where did these bad boys come from? And again, I'm totally fine with it. I used to always like having small boobs, but now I kinda like having a little more to work with. Sometimes they make me feel fat, but not really. I feel more like a woman. Like an adult. Do I still get a sort of vague longing when I see someone super skinny? Sometimes. But for the most part, I have no desire to go back.