It’s January, and you know what that means! The gyms are full of people who insist this year will be different. It’ll be the year they finally get ‘fit’. The TV is full of adverts for gyms and weight loss programmes and the shops have extensive displays of SlimFast and protein shakes. It truly is the worst time of the year.

I know I’m not alone in struggling with this. So many of us feel inadequate when faced with this constant reminder that smaller bodies are seen as more worthy. But as an anorexia survivor, I find this message especially difficult.

Gym adverts in particular seem to have this weirdly dangerous temptation for me. The same kind of pull I imagine alcoholics feel when they see adverts for vodka. I know it’s bad for me, but I begin to ponder if it was really as bad as I thought it was. Surely I could go back now and it’d be different.

Gyms were completely addictive to me. Don’t get me wrong, I hated the actual exercise. But I loved being able to physically see calories disappearing before me. I loved the numbers on the machines, watching them increase and knowing this meant I was counter-acting what I had eaten that day. I loved telling myself ‘just a few more’, knowing more would never truly feel enough. I loved the thought of gym staff thinking how much I was transforming, how well I was doing and how dedicated I was.

Every now and then I start to kid myself that re-joining a gym is the right thing for me. That this time I’ll be able to control it. That it won’t make me stop eating so as not to put the calories I worked off back on. That it won’t leave me pacing around rooms every time I’m alone just to burn off a few more. That I won’t feel compelled to spend longer and longer there until I’m going multiple times a day.

Even if it weren’t a gym, the results would be the same. I used to walk miles around my village a day, no matter the weather, to ensure my the numbers didn’t begin to creep back up. I purchased an exercise bike and a cross trainer, and pushed myself to spend at least an hour per day on each. But surely this time it won’t be that bad, right?

Deep down I know this isn’t true. 

I know the reality is very different to this.  I know once I begin it will only be a matter of time before I lose control. Before old habits begin creeping back in. Before I end up sick again.

It’s hard to accept this. In a society so obsessed with slimness and fitness, it can be hard to be one of the few people who can’t engage with it. I feel endless shame that I am so inactive and constantly feel a need to justify myself to others. But I know it is safer than engaging with exercise just because I feel I should. I know my health would actually suffer if I engaged in exercise, but I still feel guilty. 

Thankfully, engaging in the Body Positive and Health At Every Size communities means I am slowly learning to accept my reality. To know this is part of my recovery, and is a sign of healing as opposed to being somehow broken. 

Learning how diet-culture has become so unconsciously ingrained to my own brain and into society at large has helped me take the first steps to unlearning it’s toxic message. To find my own way with my body, food and exercise. To accept exercise isn’t necessarily something that is inherently good for everyone. I’m learning to let go of the guilt, and instead be kind to myself for choosing what is best for me.

I don’t know yet if I’ll ever get to a place where I feel able to engage with exercise safely, but if not, I know that’s okay.

Lorna

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