The thing that strikes me now is the fear. I never felt ‘thin’, I always felt like a recovering fat person. I was afraid that one meal, one week, one month would see all the weight pile back on. This is why the new job was a godsend.
As a poster girl and role model for the diet-brand-that-shall-not-be-named I would need to hold myself to a higher standard. I had no choice but to halt the emotional eating, binges, unhealthy family gatherings and temptations; I would certainly remain my ‘goal weight’ forever. Or so I thought.
I loved my job, or at least, I loved being on the frontline with the people. Having learned about strength-based practice and Socratic questioning at uni, I put that into effect with my members. I freaking loved it, and my members did too.
I turned the focus onto each person’s unique personality, lifestyle and achievements. They were the expert in their own lives and they held the key to being successful. While the numbers dropped their smiles grew brighter and brighter. But something gnawed at me.
The stress and self-loathing of diet culture hit me hard. On one hand, we spruiked the benefits of mindfulness, body acceptance and overall wellness, but underneath the gloss we were the same as every other diet – it all boiled down to weight.
On multiple occasions, I would be chatting online with members while scoffing down chocolate. I couldn’t handle the dichotomy of it all. When I brought it up with my boss she said, “No one else has trouble with it.” And so, it was a ‘me’ problem, and I was alone.
Image: Supplied.