Go scroll through your Facebook feed right now, and try to count how many things you see about weight loss. How many ads do you see (either posted by ad partners or by your own Facebook friends) promoting weight loss products or strategies? Or go watch TV for a bit, and see how many advertisements talk about loosing weight. Look at the magazines on display in the store check-out line and see how many covers mention dieting or loosing weight.
Sometimes, successful losers will talk about their improved appearance, lowered cholesterol, or reversed pre-diabetes. More often, though, they will talk about how their entire life was changed by weight-loss- how it saved their marriage (or got them a marriage partner!), improved their career, brought healing from past traumatic experiences, etc. Now, don't get me wrong- being overweight or obese is often the result of underlying conditions, which may be physical or psychological. It's great to hear about people who receive a diagnosis and can begin the path to healing...but, all too often, these commercials will promise anything- from a svelte figure to a dream date- to sell whatever weight loss product they can.
It's overwhelming. As a pre-teen, the message I was getting was that, if the number on the scale was dropping, then my health was improving, more people would notice me and love me, and I was becoming more valuable and accepted as a person.
As early as fourth grade, my classmates and I were being lectured about obesity and the dangers of eating anything with fat or sugar in it- I learned to fear many perfectly healthy foods, such as avocados or lean red meats. I was told that my health could be measured by simple P.E. tests- tests that I would usually fail because I had (undiagnosed) cerebral palsy and athletic asthma.
By sixth grade, I would skip meals every opportunity I got, or, if I ate, I would only eat foods I considered "good," such as lettuce or a little bit of white meat. I was experimenting with purging. In high school, I would use my unscheduled time to go to the weight room and do the "fat-burning" workouts on the cardio machine. In my mind, if I was making the number on the scale go down, I was improving my health and my worth.
The catch: I have always been thin. I am 5' 5 1/2" and have never weighed more than 130 pounds- and I weighed much less in high school. I have always had a fast metabolism and lived an active lifestyle. Looking back, I was denying myself the proper amount of calories and vital nutrients such as protein, iron, and healthy fats. I wasn't getting anywhere in my workouts because I wasn't getting enough calories or doing the right resistance training to build strength. As a result, my health was actually declining. I had small black-out spells in P.E. or at tennis practice. I felt tired and got out of breath easily (my asthma symptoms were exacerbated by the lack of nutrients). However, in my mind, this was further evidence that I needed to loose weight. At ages fifteen and sixteen, I was trying to get my body to look like it did when I was twelve. I can remember one week during my freshman year of high school where I noticed my jeans didn't fit and I had "gained" three pounds (I didn't realize it was water weight from my monthly cycle), and I went into panic mode. I skipped lunch every day that week and threw up anything my parents made me eat. By the end of the week, my clothes fit again and I was back to my normal weight, and I felt as though I had hit a major health milestone. I had lost weight. Never mind the fact that I didn't NEED to loose it, or the horrible dieting methods I had just used. Loosing weight was healthy!
While I physically recovered from disordered eating at age seventeen, it has only been in the past eighteen months that I have realized that part of being healthy (for me) is keeping weight ON, not just keeping it off. For the first time in my life, I started being conscious about getting enough protein and calories, and I lightened up on my cardio and started focusing more on lifting weights. I felt like my appearance improved, but more importantly, my energy levels increased and I had less trouble with dizziness or blackouts.
Above all else, I've realized that the number on the scale is just that: a number. It does not make me a better friend, daughter, sister or teacher. My value does not come from my weight or my BMI. Rather, my value comes from a Savior who has bestowed His own righteousness upon me.
May I never forget.
