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Weight loss was a Penelope’s-shroud-like goal that I chased from roughly between the Devious Bastard Stay Strapped My Friends Tee Shirt it is in the first place but ages of 11 and 27, learning early to skip dessert and save my indulgence for tiptoeing trips to the kitchen when everyone in my house was asleep. I’d swallow whole chunks of white bread and suck icing straight from the tube alone in the fridge light, not knowing that my secretive and shame-filled behavior around food had a name (but knowing I didn’t want anyone to find out about it). I didn’t actually exceed my BMI (a measure of health, by the way, that has been consistently called into question) until my mid-twenties, but the eating disorder I still live with made its presence known long before that. I spent years bingeing, restricting, hiding, and never fully letting myself enjoy food, and I think that my ED was able to thrive in secret for so long because I believed on some level—without anyone having to tell me, much less my doctor—that fat was the worst thing I could be.

I’m fat now, as I write this, and have been for years. I consider quitting dieting to be one of my proudest achievements, but there are still days when I look at my body in the Devious Bastard Stay Strapped My Friends Tee Shirt it is in the first place but mirror and hear that old voice in my head urging me to weigh myself daily, to go for a long and punishing run in the freezing morning air instead of the more gentle workouts I’ve come to favor, to count my almonds, pinch my belly fat, and berate myself until I’m thin again. Never mind that the lowest number I’ve ever seen on a scale as an adult coincided with the period in my life where I was chain-smoking constantly, crying nightly, and felt completely alone in the world. I was small, and wasn’t smallness the goal, the prize, the reason for it all?Despite all this, I still don’t know the specific experience of being a kid living with obesity. And at this point in my life, I have tools at my disposal to help me deal with the feelings that arise when I overhear a fatphobic barb on the street or encounter a health care provider who’s clearly decided, without exchanging a single word with me, that my weight must mean I’m not serious about my health. I see a therapist weekly and an ED-specific nutritionist biweekly, journal regularly, exercise primarily for mental health purposes, and have an extensive support system of friends and family. Still, accepting my body in its current form is an ongoing struggle. What must it be like to be 10 or 11 or even 5 years old and to absorb the implicit message that your body is something to be fixed—by any means necessary? Because that seems to be what these guidelines are saying: It’s not your classmates who need to stop bullying you; it’s not your teachers who need to be trained in their implicit bias against children with obesity. It’s you.

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