My decision to gain weight
Content warning: discussion of extreme dieting and weight loss
I never thought about my weight until the summer before high school. I was an utter disaster in gym class, petrified by the beep test, a trial of endurance that forces unlucky participants to race against a progressively faster beeping sound. And so, I thought to myself, “Well, why don’t you take up running until September? You can get into shape and prepare for your first semester.”
I wasn’t overweight by any means. I was 5’6” and weighed 135 pounds, smack dab in the middle of “normal” according to the Body Mass Index. But as I struggled to run even a kilometre, I began to feel uncomfortable by what I perceived to be a flabby midriff and jiggling arms and thighs. Little by little, the thought entered my head, “I really want to lose all of this.”
Now, for better or worse, when I put my mind to something, I don’t stop until I get what I want. But it was clear that summer that I didn’t know what I meant by losing it all.
I ran for two hours every evening throughout July and August of 2016. I limited myself to boiled vegetables (no oil allowed), lean plant-based protein, and carefully measured portions of rice (I purchased a food scale). By the beginning of September, I had gone from weighing 135 to 115 pounds. I went down two clothing sizes. Despite this dramatic weight loss, I remember not feeling any satisfaction. There were still parts of my body that were too big for my liking.
From that point forward, the size of my body was always on my mind. I always felt too big, like some cancerous tumour metastasizing beyond control. In high school, I incorporated HIIT workouts (High-Intensity Interval Training) into my daily routine. I downloaded a calorie counting app on my phone and made records on a spare sticky note every time I ate something. (I recently found one of these notes with a series of two and three-digit figures scrawled all over it. Apparently, a handful of strawberries is 30 calories.) I rejected all beverages that contained calories. Having snacks and eating after dinner became unfathomable concepts. I went through periods where any fatty or oily foods made me gag. I felt a small twinge of pleasure each time I went to bed hungry.
In the summers of grade eleven and my first year of university, I lost my period several times. I was constantly exhausted. My bones ached like nothing else. It wasn’t always like this, however. For the next couple of years, I oscillated between periods of “normal” eating and then moments of complete asceticism. Sometimes I felt okay, and other times, I felt awful.
I didn’t have any grand revelation about my dietary habits until this summer. Studying for the LSATs was incredibly stressful and when I get anxious, I lose my appetite. I struggled to eat more than a meal a day. Oftentimes, I could only get down a smoothie or two. By the time I finished my exam on July 15, I weighed under 110 pounds (considerably underweight by BMI standards). It suddenly hit me. I shouldn’t be this small. I shouldn’t feel this frail.
I thought to myself, “Well, you have to gain some weight.” But I hardly knew where to begin.
Turns out, eating a burger and fries once a week or drinking the occasional root beer float is not going to magically reverse years of restrictive dieting and unhealthy exercise. I realized to gain weight, I had to eat at a caloric surplus every day. And for me, this meant eating more than three meals a day. Little by little, I incorporated a fourth meal, daily desserts, and one or two snacks between every large portion of food.
I say little by little because I didn’t realize how mentally challenging this whole process would be. I didn’t expect to be my own worst enemy as well as my biggest fan.
It’s safe to say that I was (and on a bad day, still am) terrified of allowing my body to take up space. I was sickened by the thought of growing my body and filling up the world with my person. There are still days where I look in the mirror and wish I could be smaller, have less of me on my arms and my hips. There are still moments where I think about my flesh as something abject, something that needs to be erased. Indeed, it is mindboggling how sometimes an ideal female body is barely having a body at all.
While challenging in many respects, this whole journey has been incredibly rewarding. Turns out, you perform so much better in every aspect of your life when you grant your body the fuel it deserves. In 2012, I struggled to run one kilometre. After four years of low-calorie meals and intense exercise, I could barely do five kilometres without getting winded. This year, I ran 11 kilometres at once, a personal record, and more importantly, felt more energetic and exalted doing so than I’ve ever felt. It is relieving not to think about food all the time. And when I do eat, I’m no longer doing the math of how many calories are in X amount of a portion size. I try my best to eat to complete satiety.
From August to the time I am writing this article, I have gained around ten pounds (I am just above 120 pounds). My goal is to gain another five pounds before I assess how to proceed from there. I know the road is still long and difficult, but I am excited to see where it will take me. I’m so thankful to finally allow my body to flourish.
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