The Recovery Slinky: Coping with Weight Gain

The Body Pacifist


One of the trickiest things about recovering from an eating disorder is that nasty progressive “-ing.” It’s one thing to be weight-restored, and I’m by no means belittling the time, work, and distress that accompanied my getting there. But unlike the flu or mono, there’s no clear-cut moment when you can say, “I’m recovered. I’m healthy now.” Or, if there is, I haven’t found it yet.

I’ve reached a point where I no longer need to worry about not weighing enough. Anorexia dominated my doctor’s appointments for at least the past five years, and it set the limits about what I could and couldn’t do. I couldn’t give blood. I couldn’t go out in public without a sweater, since the least amount of air conditioning left me freezing. I couldn’t experience one of the most basic signs of womanhood: my menstrual cycle. Now, it’s my body that decides these things…

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