A Story of Recovery:

I Hated Those Skinny, Little Sales People

In my early teenage years, I remember shopping at a warehouse clothing store with my mother. I was not yet overweight, but I was already extremely self-conscious about my body, and I was sure I was fat. (This is a disease that starts in my head, that’s for sure!)

We staked out a spot by a mirror in the communal dressing room. My mother tried to shield me, but it was still a humiliating, uncomfortable experience, and I absolutely could not enjoy trying on the pretty outfits. The insanity, too, was that although I “knew” I was fat, I could somehow see that others were even fatter than I was. I was very ill at ease with some of the women in the dressing room, who were really obese. The whole experience was suffocating and stressful.

In another shopping experience, I walked into a little boutique clothing store in search of an outfit for a special occasion. I asked what size the clothes went up to, and I walked out, because the largest size was a 10-12, if they even had any in stock. I was lucky if I could fit into a size 16-18. I hated those skinny, little sales people.

When I was 26-years-old, I had just come back to the U.S. after a year abroad, and I was fat, after losing my OA (Overeaters Anonymous) abstinence and bingeing my way through the year. I had been set up on a blind date and I had nothing to wear. Out of pity for me, my mother took me shopping to a fancy store that stocked larger sizes (conveniently labeled in sizes 1, 2, and 3, so customers wouldn’t ever have to acknowledge the size of their bodies). We found a great outfit that hid me well enough. It was flowing and baggy, but also stylish. I was relieved to have something to put on, but the dark panic of “I need to do something about this” was in the background.

One time when I was in my 30s, I needed to find a fabulous outfit for an upcoming event. I received a gift card for a personal shopper (you guessed it—from my mother!), but I didn’t want to waste the time and money, because I knew that whatever we bought together probably wouldn’t fit by the time I went to the event. Not to mention the fact that there is no way I was going to take my clothes off in front of some cute little Barbie doll of a personal shopper.

Then I lost my weight in FA and I didn’t know how to shop for this body yet. I wore clothes that were too big, because I couldn’t allow myself to look at smaller sizes. I couldn’t believe that something would fit me later if I didn’t allow myself a little room to grow.

I finally used the personal shopper to go through my closet and help me rebuild a wardrobe for the body that has stayed at its right size for more than two years. When we shop together, it is so difficult to allow her to bring me clothes in a size that I think must be too small to bother with. I was amazed and grateful when these outfits fit my body. It was almost impossible at first to follow her advice and start wearing some form-fitting outfits. I had been so used to hiding in my baggy, flowing robes (I have always called them “bohemian chic”). But I needed to get out of my comfort zone and just do it anyway.  When I think about it, it was kind of like following a sponsor’s suggestions.

Then I became able to walk into a small people’s store and try on a whole bunch of clothes that fit me. Instead of walking out of a store with red eyes from crying in the dressing room, I walked out with a full shopping bag, meeting the glances of other people with a smile.

I am no longer a ball of self-hatred and shame. The confidence I feel about my right to be anywhere in this world, including in a store with clothes for small people, translates into a grace that I can share with others. I no longer have to hide; I can meet other people’s glances head-on.   It all began with getting to my right-sized body and enjoying its benefits. With the integrity of knowing that I am doing my 1% in this recovery comes the ability to allow God’s 99% to come into my life and, through me, into the lives of others. Clothes shopping is a great external measure of my progress in recovery. But the energy surrounding it—the feeling of being at home in the world—is something that transcends the physical. I walk through my days in a right-sized body, and recovery in FA has brought me mental healing, as I begin to release those feelings of shame, self-hatred, and fear that kept me such a prisoner. And recovery has brought me spiritual healing, as I feel God’s love and joy flow into my consciousness and, hopefully, into the lives of those around me.