A piece of writing about my journey with body image and diet culture. If you prefer to listen rather than read, check out the podcass episode where I read this aloud.

Dangling my feet from the edge of the exam table, my doctor stood over me as he clicked his pen and my “prescription” fell out of his mouth. Although I was there for a sports physical, it was important that I stop eating bread, rice, and potatoes, to address my ‘weight problem’.

You might be thinking, “how terrible!” but I remember exactly—the green tile walls, floor and ceiling, the cold stale hum of the lights—looking down at my thighs touching and thinking, “you’re right.”

At this point in my life, the news of my weight problem wasn’t news to me. I had been made aware of my size for as long as I could remember, daunted by the responsibility of doing something about it.

I have been 5’9″ since I was in the 5th grade. The message of being thin was loud and clear everywhere—but especially to me as I towered over everyone else my age and was “big boned.”

“Suck in those bellies, I can see your snacks sticking out!!!” screamed my ballet teacher. “Are you sure you want a second helping?” “You eat more than the boys.”

I resented the responsibility of making my body smaller.

I resented that I didn’t know how, that I was desperate to, and I didn’t openly admit it either, so I suffered in silence.

I cut the sizes out of my jeans so nobody else would see. I’d be having teenage fun, until I caught a glimpse of my reflection in a store window and the rush of embarrassment flooded over me.

By high school, I was regularly doing the Atkins diet after Christmas until spring break, packing my lunches with diet Dr. Pepper and sugar-free peppermint patties because those were “better options.”

I’d drop 20 pounds eating bacon cheeseburgers without the bun to fit into a bathing suit. Are you reading this?

To “fit” into a bathing suit.

The last I checked, bathing suits come in a lot of sizes, so what I really meant was I would eat meat and lettuce so my bare body could take up space around other people without horrifying or offending them.

College and my twenties were a yo-yo in every way.

I’d research and try to find the best possible options to lose weight in the shortest amount of time so I wouldn’t have to struggle for long. My main goal was to get back to livin’ while “handling” my responsibility of becoming a size 6.

I was convinced that there was just some code I hadn’t cracked. A secret code that those who didn’t struggle with their weight knew, and I was going to figure it out.

Depending on where I was in time, what day of the week it was, or whose wedding was coming up, I was in one direction or the other. Waiting to start a diet or dieting waiting to stop.

Through the end of college and into my twenties, I started watching my weight through an app that converts your food into a points system. Stay within the points, lose the weight. It’s that simple!

The scale.

Haunted by it day in and day out, willing the numbers to change by eating less than my daily points.

I’d sprint into the bathroom in the morning before I ate anything, most definitely after I pooped, wondering how I could’ve messed things up so badly this week. I ate LESS than my points—I for sure thought this would be a loss?!!!

The conversation taking place in my head was pretty volatile. I didn’t actively realize this until much later because I considered myself a positive person.

My moods, however, were dictated by what was happening on the scale because I was obsessed. I knew that when the numbers went down, people celebrated me, and when they were up, crickets.

I spent a summer in Italy, it was a dream come true to be surrounded by crystal blue waters and the best food I ever had… until I saw the pictures my friends took of us at the beach. Why did I think I deserved to be there?

In my mid-ish twenties, I planted my white flag. I surrendered to the way I was approaching my health & my life overall because clearly it wasn’t working. I was deserted in the middle of burnout island.

A quick Google search of what burnout actually is: burnout is a state of emotional, physical, and mental exhaustion caused by excessive and prolonged stress.

I had been contorting myself to fit into smaller boxes, smaller spaces, and smaller pants for as long as I could remember and found myself so exhausted I didn’t care what would happen if I stopped.

I had been so driven by the fear of ‘not stopping’ for so long, and when I finally did, it hurt. It stung. But the clouds dissipated and all I could see was possibility. My surrender to my old way of living would mean that whatever I did next had to be better than that.

I started focusing on how I wanted to feel. What my life actually looks like outside of the pursuit of being thin. What does the pursuit of healthy look like?

Is it possible to be well without torturing yourself? I had to find out. This time, my search engine was my intuition. What was inside. No more looking outside of myself for what to do next.

Outside of diet culture, I spent time rediscovering who I was and how I wanted to live my life. How I wanted to feel. What I liked and what I wanted to create.

My own personal wounds of diet culture had scabbed over, so when I was presented with an opportunity to create change in an organization that had done so much harm in the past, I was over the moon and ready for the task.

I won an award from the most famous person you could win an award from, and I remember realizing… this is what I’m meant to do. I’m meant to teach people to build habits that make them feel good about themselves without sacrifice.

For the most part, this experience was incredible. I was clear on how to approach wellness from a balanced perspective. When my contract came through, so did the request for weight verification. Historically, anyone this company hired had to have proven success in the weight loss department.

Assignments started coming through…. “Your topics this week are scale anxiety and low-point breakfasts.”

Thoughts flooded my brain: “What does low-point breakfast even mean? That we shouldn’t be eating breakfast if it isn’t low in points? I would never say this.”

“If we keep talking about scale anxiety, they are going to have scale anxiety????”

On a photo shoot, clothespins were used to tighten the sleeves of my shirt. At the time I didn’t really understand it, but like I looked at my doctor in junior high with a “you’re right,” I went with it.

About a week later, I was sent links to the final edits. The first text that caught my eye bouncing around the screen was that I had lost 30 lbs. “Cassidy -30 lbs!!!!” With me dancing and laughing around the kitchen, just like you will be too when you lose weight.

I was mortified. Horrified that this is what came out of the shoot I thought I was being given as credit to being an inspiring coach.

That diet scab that was almost completely healed was ripped off and gushing all over the floor as I realized I was the perfect representation of the old narrative I refused to perpetuate—thin, blonde, white, happy to be all three.

Earlier I said I was convinced that there was just some code I hadn’t cracked. A secret code that those who didn’t struggle with their weight knew, and I was going to figure it out.

The secret is this—you only struggle with your weight if you let yourself struggle with your weight. If you are caught in the cycles of anticipating the scale, tearing yourself down if you had carbs before your vacation, you are struggling with your weight and you are stuck in a cycle that will continue to deteriorate your self-worth and confidence over time.

The diet industry is a $60 billion per year industry rooted in patriarchal, white supremacist thinking that profits off of us struggling with our weight.

Men want women to be desirable and thin, so women destroy themselves trying to become desirable and thin. To be chosen. So if you are blaming yourself for feeling this way, you’re supposed to. That’s how it’s designed.

Becoming healthy and level-headed, balanced and confident, is an act of rebellion because it means you are willing to choose yourself even if nobody else will.

It took me a LONG time to become okay with being a size 10. To stop cutting the size out of my jeans and choose myself no matter what. I can proudly say that I love my body, even if it fluctuates. Because it does.

My validation doesn’t come from anyone other than myself. I’m a smart, strong, wild, raw, fun, and incredible person who deserves to take up space on this planet. I didn’t know that for a long time, but now I do, it’s important to celebrate.

I went from resentful and fear-driven, to empowered, to triggered and retraumatized, and now, grateful and compassionate. I’m grateful for the privilege to have had the capacity and resources to dedicate to untangling this giant knot I thought I would be stuck in forever.

The responsibility I carry now is what I put into the world. I take what I say and put out there very seriously.

If a doctor can say something to me 20 years ago that still feels like yesterday, I can’t help but wonder about the things I’ve said to people and how it has impacted them, if it has at all.

If I can be the person who says one thing that impacts one person in a way that helps them heal, if I can create art and stories that make someone feel seen, I am more than okay with being a size 10 because I’m actually truly so much bigger than that.