My therapist came up with a fabulous idea in our session last week. Although she didn’t mean it in the literal sense, I have enjoyed pondering how it might manifest. I was left with effervescent anger after an irritating conversation I was subsumed in last week. I articulately ranted for approximately five minutes after which my therapist suggested I stand on a metaphorical soapbox. Yet I don’t think it should be metaphorical. I would like to get on my soapbox and share my many thoughts with anyone who passes. However, first let's backtrack to the catalyst of our conversation.
It was the last day of one of my classes. My lovely professor brought us some decadent goodies to celebrate all our efforts this semester. Lavishly decorated cinnamon buns, scrumptious vegan chocolate chip cookies, and gluten-free gooey oat bars were just a few of the treats spread out for all to enjoy. As she left to go move her illegally parked car, some of the boys around me decided to have a dangerously disordered conversation. They started talking about how fat they were getting, needing to cut weight for beach week, the damning freshman 15, carb-loading per coaches request etc... I was sitting in the middle of this weight talk. I kept my head down, trying to ignore their triggering comments as I completed my course evaluation.
My anger was bubbling but I pushed it down. Meanwhile, my inner monologue was filled with cutting and shocking retorts to shut them up. However, in the week that has passed since the conversation, my sentiments have shifted. I find myself feeling pretty sad for two reasons. First, I am sad for them. As my therapist said, those boys probably had no idea that their conversation was very disordered. After being so excited to eat his cinnamon bun, one guy didn’t even touch it after they finished talking. They must miss out on so much life and enjoyment; if they believe that this kind of thinking and weight discussion is normal, it must be a pretty sad world filled with a lot of food guilt.
Second, I am sad I couldn’t find the courage in that moment to say something constructive to shift the discussion. Initially, I was planning to say something along the lines of…
“To be honest with you guys, your weight is the least of your problems.”
Ensue a series of mean, pointed, and individualised roasts.
“I was at an inpatient centre, told I may need a pacemaker at age 18 because my heart was so slow, and almost had to go back to residential treatment in December because I let myself think like you. I cry sometimes when I eat a meal and struggle to go-to breakfast most mornings. So, for the love of God, please do not spend 15 minutes discussing this around me while I am finally doing well and dealing with the resulting self-deprecating body image every bloody day.”
Upon reflection, I don’t think this necessarily would have helped anything. Both myself and the boys would have just been left with even more guilt. Now, I think I want to try and dispel and mitigate their guilt and blatantly obvious body image issues. Perhaps I would say something like, “Who cares? Just enjoy the sweet treat. Everyone needs balance in their life - fruits and vegetables, as well as sugary goods. That’s how you avoid bingeing! In the grand scheme of things, having one cinnamon bun really won’t make all that much of a difference.” I am sad I didn’t have the courage to say it, but next time (because there will be a next time) I am going to do my best to try.
Reframing disordered conversations is hard. Especially if you are someone trying to make the difficult pro-recovery decisions every moment of every day. One of these days, if I keep going down this positive path, I am going to find my soapbox. Hopefully, I will be able to engage and spread the healthy eating gospel with insecure college students navigating complicated, toxic diet culture rhetoric.