There was my body before Talia Matheson told me to “do something” about my cellulite. A non-issue, something that danced and got me around. And there was the body after.
Definitively, utterly wrong.
In a hormonal semi-conscious pre-pubescent trance, off I went to weight watchers where I learnt to ignore my hunger and count spoonful’s of yoghurt instead.
Naturally with this as a foundational learning experience the next twenty years were a riot!
High school starve-athons abruptly ended at 3pm when ravenously friends and I would arrive home and devour everything. Anorexia followed, but sadly, it was the binge eating type. Sigh. Life fell into a pattern of being good (restricting) Monday to Friday and being bad (binging food/booze/food/men/younameit) on weekends.
You could say I was an unsuccessful dieter, until I found wellness.
Newly single in my thirties, I quickly organised my life around this promising new discipline. Movement I loved anyway, and it was easy to find articles and podcasts that suggested I cut out food groups (nb: from weight loss companies and gurus, mind you, not reputable sources).
Strict and committed, my days included a strict form of yoga, meditating, exercising and meal planning. Striding around work, drinking ghee and turmeric lattes, my ego exploded with each positive comment about my weight. I dished unsolicited advice.
That’s why it was so surprising when my well-being started to go.
Lack of sleep and a growing list of banned foods left me anxious and fatigued. Chronic stomach problems became an excuse to cut out more foods and splash cash on supplements, and, mentally, although I maintained a strict meditation practice, my internal world could best be described as “gripped”.
And I was obsessed with food. It was all I thought about. Having convinced myself my wellness ideals helped me perform and manage stress, I’d chastise myself for breaking food rules. Obsessed with tweaking the perfect exercise schedule, I never let myself rest.
It all started to change when my nice-not-a-narcissist boyfriend and I got pregnant. Crying and feeling guilty about eating toast, Mary Oliver's famous quote started playing on repeat in my head.
“What will you do with your one wild precious life?”
“What life?” I mused one day, pregnant and nauseous, and proceeded to vomit my green smoothie over the balcony. I didn’t have one.
Then one day, I learnt a new term, and it felt way too familiar.
What is Orthorexia Nervosa
Orthorexia Nervosa is described as an obsession with healthy eating and wellness behaviours as defined by a diet theory or set of beliefs. It’s also accompanied by feelings of distress when an individual makes what they believe to be an unhealthy food choice.
F#$k.
Reaching out to a Brisbane-based Health at Every Size dietician on a zoom call, we explored my journey. I had most of the characteristics of orthorexia, but one marker really stood out:
The desire to lose weight was out of sight, almost hidden.
Gulp.
To this day, I’m not sure how I duped myself. Even while I was basking in compliments about my weight loss, I was telling myself that it was all about health. Of course, it wasn’t.
The restrict binge cycle had started back in my teenage years, and wellness was just another expression of it.
The problem with restriction is that even at a low level, it signals our body to make long-term changes to our appetite hormones. With these hormonal changes, restriction causes a pendulum-like swing to the binge side of the equation.
Photo courtesy: Rachel Hartley Nutrition
Prompted by restriction, this swing in our hormones signals our body to:
eat more than we need
feel hungrier than normal
eat rapidly or feel like we are out of control
and even reduce feelings of satiety.
Rachel Hartley non-diet nutritionist, sums it up well.
“When we fail to diet or restrict, it is not our willpower that is at fault. It is our genetics signalling us to eat more, constant food.”
My dietician instructed me to start by eating every three hours, and the relief from this simple step was palpable. From there, she helped me consider the evidence that suggests a weight loss focus was actually bad for my health and was prompting a cycle of weight loss and regain, low self-esteem and distracting me from other health goals.
l also learnt about intuitive eating, a non-weight loss approach to health and wellbeing which body-inclusive dietician Geraldine Taggart - Jeewa takes care to point out
“isn’t anti-health, just isn’t weight loss focused.”
Today, a whole four years later, and perhaps just like Glennon Doyle, who recently revealed an anorexia diagnosis, I’m in the messy middle. Or perhaps the start of the end.
I am still working on my unreal belief that thinner bodies are healthier. But what has helped me get my life and health dramatically back on track is the Health at Every Size movement.
Health at Every Size (or HAES) is an approach to health that encourages patients to:
focus on physical (and non-physical) activities we love without worrying about our body size
eat foods that feel good in their body on any given day
focus on quality of life
practising and learning about fat acceptance
An analysis of weight science research shows HAES clients experience positive health outcomes, including improved healthy behaviours, improved physical markers like blood pressure and lipids, and improved body image (a key factor in self-esteem).
So, while I still have to do forcible mental U-turns when I catch myself hyper-aware of the flesh on my upper arms or listening to friends chat about "health kicks", life is infinitely, thankfully, better.
While it isn't all sunshine and rainbows, I now actually experience joy more than fear. Letting go of low-level restriction and over-exercising has improved my energy, iron, gut health, anxiety and sleep.
In the extra mental space I've gained, I've found the courage to start studying psychology, writing, and, hopefully, being a better, less smug friend. And although I still experience bumps, my mental health is now built on something stronger than endorphins and what I've eaten in the past 24 hours.
As American activist and social worker, Lisa Du Brueil writes.
“It’s not about the size of your body. It’s about the size of your life.”
I’m f#$king glad I finally got one.
P.S. For more information, try Health at Every Size resources, Food Psych podcast, follow the @moderationmovement and check out the Intuitive Eating movement on Insta. Also, for the record, click here for a great analysis of weight science.