“Suck it in girls.”
I tighten my core and smile as a group of mothers coach my friends and me on how to stand for our homecoming pictures. As a 33-year-old woman looking back on these photos, I wonder, what was there to make smaller? A 14 year old who had barely passed puberty, I didn’t know how to navigate my changing, yet small 5’ 3” frame. I see in my younger self a timidity to recognize my beauty and know my worth. I have such compassion for her as I think about how early she was groomed to believe her worth could be found in a flattened stomach.
Now I am beginning to understand my strength and beauty in a new way.
“You could be a powerlifter if you wanted to,” my fitness coach says to me. “I mean, I can see your adductor muscles. Those aren’t usually defined,” he observes as he lifts up my leg to help me increase my mobility.
I’ve never even heard of the muscle he just named, let alone am I aware that I have somehow acquired it. There are days I feel like I barely know the intricacies of my body at all, nor do I know how to celebrate my athletic build.
I’ve always been an athlete. My body is short, but quick, broad shouldered, powerful, and determined. In elementary school freeze tag, the game would come down to me and two of my male classmates. In middle school dodgeball, I’d be one of the last ones standing. In high school I joined the swim team having never before swam competitively. In college I defended the guys in ultimate Frisbee because I was fast enough to do so.
At 33, I’ve decided that weight lifting is my new sport. My body has changed significantly over the past nine months of lifting. I’ve gained muscle, which also means I’ve gained weight. Some of my shirts are too snug for my growing shoulders, and some of my shorts no longer pull over my muscular thighs. It has felt vulnerable to risk letting my body develop into the strong frame it has always had instead of trying to confine it to an unattainable standard that my body type will never achieve. I’ve been tempted to think I’ll get fat and the only solution must be to limit my food intake. Over the years, I’ve wrestled with contempt over my body type.
At the same time, I’ve realized how little I know about taking care of my body. I think back to when I would eat almonds for lunch in my twenties, weighing the least I’ve ever weighed and getting praised for starving myself. I’ve come a long way since those days, and as I’ve been lifting, my appetite and metabolism have skyrocketed, prompting me to start nutrition coaching.
Each day I have an outline for the meals I eat. I’ve never eaten this much food in a day in my life, and I’m losing weight.
“Women don’t lose weight because they eat too little protein,” my coach says.
I’m floored. Why has no one told me this?
He also tells me that when you restrict your food intake, you lose weight because your body loses muscle, not fat. In fact, when you limit your calories, your body begins to hold onto fat in order to make sure it can survive. This can cause long-term repercussions as you introduce proper nutrition into your diet, almost as if your body has to learn that it can trust you to feed it before it becomes leaner.
I feel a deep sadness toward my younger body as I long for repair.
As healing as my journey with lifting and nutrition has been, what I’m learning about nutrition ignites a furious fire in my core. I feel powerless as I think about my ability to help redeem diet culture. Perhaps one way that I can do this is by enjoying my strength and the joy I get out of lifting. Enjoying my physical body as I allow it to be strong represents a reclamation of my voice and pushes against messages that women must starve to gain acceptance.
As I PR on a 125 lb. deadlift, I think of my high school friends holding in their stomachs and myself subsisting off of almonds. I think of my clients who have faithfully struggled with their body image. I think of little girls being sold the idea that beauty comes with a starved princess waist. I look around at the women in my class who have strong, beautiful frames, and I catch a glimmer of hope. I am taking my anger to the gym as a way to push back on a culture I’m no longer willing to let control me.
Devan Grayson is passionate about contemplating the beauty of this world as she finds it in her own story and in the lives of others. She loves good conversations, ultimate Frisbee, writing, and hiking. She works as a Licensed Professional Counselor and co-founded Sunergos Counseling Collective in Colorado Springs. She counts it a privilege to walk with clients and is continually struck by the specific beauty woven into the seemingly ragged details of our lives.
This is brave and inspiring Devan – thank you for sharing so vulnerably and honestly with us all. Cheers to you and learning new things! I imagine that younger self inside of you is quite grateful for the goodness you are offering her.