Pandemic Weight Gain? Join The Club

Content warning: Weight stigma, BMI, calorie counting, scales

Flashback to about 2021 - Due to mental health reasons influenced by intermittent stints with disordered eating, I hadn’t weighed myself in years. Since before the pandemic started, essentially. After a wild 2020 and many White Claw binges while watching Survivor, I got a personal trainer, started going to the gym regularly, increased my daily walks with my dogs, focused on hydration, and strived to eat intuitively. I meditated every day, maintained great connections with others, and continued my studies around fitness, martial arts, and nutrition. And for some reason, when I stepped on the medical grade scale and Kaiser Permanente when I was taking my mom to her doctors visit (and no one was looking or recording anyways), I thought I may be “rewarded” with a lower number on the scale. But instead, I was horrified. That good ol’ punch in the stomach that takes the wind out of you. I hadn’t lost any weight at all. I actually gained an additional 20lbs on top of the 30lbs I was informed I had gained by my doctor who, even though I only went in for an ear infection, focused on my BMI and told me to increase my cardio and lose some weight. Luckily my therapy session was right after this scale incident, but she couldn’t save me from myself. The wheel began turning. Apps were downloaded, calories were counted, and the anxious tracking began.

And now I’m at this cross roads. Stuck between moral ideologies and internal conflict.

I thought I had reached a place of body neutrality. I’ve read Fearing the Black Body and studied the racist roots of the BMI, I’ve denounced the ableism and privilege of gym culture, I’ve unpacked the eugenics of wellness culture, I’ve spoken up for radical inclusion in fitness and nutrition spaces…and yet, here I am. Tracking my nutrition in an attempt to feel some semblance of control again.

I don’t quite have the answers for myself, let alone others yet. I’m torn down the middle with half of me, perhaps my wiser self, listening to podcasts about intuitive eating and the social justice roots of the fat liberation movement. And the other half of me, perhaps disordered eating high-school me, counting calories, body checking, and proclaiming that this time is different. That I will get my dream body and I will thrive. And then there is the inner diplomat who perhaps naively seeks to integrate the conflicting sides, screaming “maybe we can do both!” - with some kind of blend of wisdom and discernment.

I am frustrated with myself, knowing that even though I faced weight stigma while growing up (bullies are in every childhood, right?), I still have thin privilege. I can fit in the machines at the gym. I can find clothes that work for my body when I go shopping (I might cry in the fitting rooms, but even when I was stick thin that didn’t change). I can eat food in public and not get gawked at. My health insurance rates aren’t higher because of my size. I know better, but I am still stuck with old conditioning and a society hellbent on making me take up as little space as possible.

For now, I write. I reflect. I have a more compassionate inner voice than I did as a teenager, which helps. I find it painfully ironic that I coach others on intuitive eating, mindful movement, and compassionate inner dialogue - cue imposter syndrome gremlin on top of weight obsession gremlin - But I guess we must navigate through our own trenches and form some kind of path for others along the way.

Flashforward to 2024 - I recently got my personal training certification and strive to be a safe space for all bodies. Because at the core of it, I really do believe in making movement and martial arts accessible. I know that the benefits are there no matter the body type. I believe that food is medicine, but I also believe that food is about community, joy, and experiences. I know general macronutrient profiles for optimal health, and I also know that not everyone has the access, time or budget to prioritize them. I enjoy experiencing the world and life through food, drink, and merriment, but I also know I have a tendency to lean into maladaptive coping mechanisms that stagnate my health and forward progress as an athlete and martial artist.

It’s my personal and professional goal, vision, and tagline to help people find balance between extremes. I guess I have to start with myself and go from there!

Here’s to more balanced days,

Joelle