I was not a girly girl growing up. I won't claim to be a tomboy either, more like a budding feminist. I did not wear skirts or heels. I did not wear makeup (and let’s be honest, I rarely do now). For good and bad reasons, I prided myself on being one of the guys.
I was competitive, rough, physical and strong.
In college, I wasn't going to be the girl who picks at a limp salad while her date devours a steak. I wasn't going to be the girl who won't go camping because her manicure might chip and won't go swimming because she straightened her hair just so.
This "anything you can do I can do better" attitude applied to drinking as well. I wasn't doing keg stands or crushing cans on my head like a frat boy, but if my friends and I went out to the bar I wasn't going to sip club soda to preserve my figure if my friends were tasting their way through the local microbrews.
I considered these to be my own little protests. Fight the patriarchy with a shot of whiskey! Fight the beauty industry with a loaded baked potato! My motto was "lead by example" and my goal was to show my sister, teammates, cousins and friends that they could enjoy life like the men and boys around them without constantly fretting about their hips.
And it worked.
For a while.
But now I'm in my 30's and there is less pressure to look like a model or a perfectly coifed pop singer.
And now my mini-protests look more like bad habits.
It's hard to unlearn these old thought patterns. I am still wary of the diet-industrial complex. I recognize the double-standards for professional women's fashion and grooming. I know that the images we compare ourselves to are photoshopped creations carefully market-tested to produce a perfect combination of anxiety and promise, all with the hope that we will be prompted to purchase the latest protein bar, gym subscription, fitness gadget or concealer.
So it is with trepidation that I venture into this first DietBet challenge. The feminist in me is uncomfortable with the emphasis on pounds and pictures. But the practical side of me knows that this can be about health and strength. I have to admit to myself that I can no longer go drink for drink with my six foot tall boyfriend without gaining weight. I have to redefine my relationship with food, from an act of comradery and defiance to an act of self-care.
I'm still competitive. But I'm trading in burritos and nachos with the guys and instead competing against my old bad habits to do what's best for me. And I'm gonna win.