@Leniriefenstahl are you ignoring all of the comments?
I grew up fat. I didn't eat a lot more than my peers when I was younger, I was chubby. Sure my parents could've maybe done something about it, but they had a lot more going on.
When I was 11 I was sexually assaulted and turned to food. In therapy we worked out that I was subconsciously trying to make myself bigger, to make myself unappealing to men.
I was bullied horrifically in school. I self harmed, was suicidal and was told by the doctor to lose weight. When I was 14, I would starve myself to the point of only eating 500 calories across a week because I was convinced that was the way to lose weight. I lost 50 pounds doing that and then put it all back on and more.
I was crying out for mental health support and didn't get any, because I was viewed as just being an attention seeking fat girl. Because fat people can't have eating disorders right?
My nan used food as a comfort. I used to associate the "bad" foods with the comfort of being at her house. It was my safe space. I would curl up on her sofa after school, she'd stroke my hair and I'd sleep, before she fed me with all the treats I wanted, because she could tell I was hurting and didn't know what else to do.
That led to a very complicated relationship with food. When I went to uni I lost all semblance of self control. I had never, EVER, had a healthy relationship with food modelled to me. None of my family have one.
When I came home from uni I decided I wanted to lose weight. It was a complicated, long journey. I worked out my TDEE, I exercised, I would lose 1-2 pounds a week. Then I'd stall, my period would come and I could gain up to 7-10 pounds just from bloating. It would totally demoralise me. If I'd had a low calorie day I'd feel triggered right back to those school days where I'd restrict so much and then the next day I'd overeat to "compensate". I lost a chunk of weight naturally but it was hard, and it ruined my mental health.
I would cry about my body, I'd have a bath and I'd sob and wish I could cut the fat out of my body. I nearly skipped out on concerts because I felt too fat to go. I didn't think I was worth being alive, because I hated my body that much and it wouldn't do the "right thing" by losing weight when I ate less and moved more.
I started the jabs because I was at my wits end. And guess what? All of that has gone away. I can work through the years of trauma and anxiety, because it was trauma. I can work through all of those feelings, without the cravings.
But it's not mental health, right? It's not me suffering, for years. It's me being a lazy gluttonous pig.