Its “Just a Number”
I know there was a time before I was aware of my body and my weight. When I didn’t know what calories were. When I would never give a second thought to growing out of a pair of pants. When my parents would ask me to pose for a picture and my immediate instinct wasn’t to suck in. When I could run around outside without feeling self-conscious of the way my thighs look when I’m in motion. The awareness came slowly, in little moments and interactions. Hearing my mother talk poorly about her size but seeing the same body type reflected back at me when I looked in the mirror. Telling my friends that I had a crush, only for them to say that I instead should go for the only other chubby kid in our class because we'd "make a cute couple." Going to a classmate's pool party in a rashguard and basketball shorts and seeing my other friends in one pieces and bikinis. Feeling so much shame when I realized my body didn't look like theirs did. There were more obvious moments too, like when I tripped during P.E. and one of the boys in my class called me a "fat lard" (obviously someone had just watched Napoleon Dynamite).
One day, when I was twelve, the awareness hit me all at once. I suddenly hated my body. I was consumed by self-loathing and insecurity. This was simultaneously occurring during the rise of social media, and I became addicted to scrolling through weight loss boards on Pinterest and Tumblr. I was encouraged by posts romanticizing eating disorders and calorie-counting. I had been very active my whole life, but became obsessed with excessive exercise. What started out as a healthy attempt to lose weight eventually became anorexia. And that’s where it begins. I eventually went into treatment and got back to a healthy weight, but I think recovery is more complicated than that. Because that was the start of the rollercoaster ride: the on and off dieting, the fluctuations, the binging and restricting, the phases of self-love and hatred, the constant push and pull. I would give anything to simply exist.
Especially as women, we are taught to be terrified of our body changing. When we start to grow hair, we learn how to shave it. When we get our period, we learn how to hide it. The world teaches us to do everything possible to prevent weight gain, but if, god forbid, we gain it, we should lose it. Or we are deemed less attractive, less worthy of love, of respect.
I wrote "Just a Number" after, as the first verse describes, I went to the doctor last year and was weighed (a lot of people have commented wondering how I went to the doctor’s on a weekend—it was a 24/7 urgent care but that was too complicated to specify in the song). I hadn't been weighed in years and it was difficult to hear that the number had changed. I had gained weight. As I sat in the doctor’s office trying not to panic, I kept repeating the phrase “it’s just a number” over and over to myself in my head. I felt ashamed, like I had failed. Like I was that twelve year old girl again. Panicked and feeling like I was in free fall. Like for some reason, all my self-worth and confidence was washed away the moment I heard that number. After my visit, I went home and immediately wrote "Just a Number”. I shared a clip of the song to my quiet corner of the internet hoping it would resonate with a few people. And when it did, the kindness and community that I found in the response was really incredible. It was really touching and emotional to see so many people online connect with the song. To have my most vulnerable insecurities and thoughts be reacted to with so much love and support. I'm not alone, and neither are you.
Lately, I’ve been doing my best to be patient with myself and to strive for happiness and healthiness through therapy and by trying to prioritize listening to my body. I still struggle a lot, but I’m really really trying. Bodies change. And society will tell you that's wrong and will throw insane expectations at you, but I'm sharing my story so hopefully someone who needs to hear it knows they aren't the only one. I'm still deserving of love and of kindness. And so are you, no matter where you are on your journey.
After I released “Just a Number,” I got an anonymous message from someone asking for advice on dealing with an eating disorder. Her message said she was thirteen years old. When I read that message, I couldn’t stop crying. I felt like I was talking to my younger self. I knew exactly how she was feeling and it broke my heart to see that the cycle had continued. That there was someone out there who was going through what I had. My best piece of advice to anyone struggling with an eating disorder is to reach out for help. There are so many incredible resources available and people who want to be there for you. I remember feeling like no one could possibly understand me or how much pain I was in, but the truth is that there are so many people who do. And they will love you through every stage of healing.
Listen to “Just a Number” here:
Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/track/4ZFMcY5tTE5WMuZNApiPPy?si=f972c2e41a10486b
Apple Music: https://music.apple.com/us/album/just-a-number/1634200525?i=1634200531
Live Youtube Performance: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xt-skvb_RSE
