More than a decade ago, I lost a significant amount of weight and dropped my high cholesterol, blood pressure, and blood sugars to safer levels.
Soon after my transformation, I was showered with compliments and invited to write for a well-known health blog. I genuinely wanted to help others improve their health, so I naively jumped at the chance to do the marketing.
Suddenly, I was thrust into the limelight of being a “poster child”—a very public role model for weight loss and wellness—without realizing the full ramifications of such widespread exposure.
My pictures and story were featured in a couple of New York Times best-selling books; and my picture was plastered on the cover of a popular women’s magazine that was sold at every checkout lane in America. I even appeared on a celebrity doctor’s TV show.
However, eventually, my size became an issue.
I was advised to lose ten more pounds in order to fit an arbitrary ideal weight for my height.
Additionally, as a public persona representing wellness, I was instructed not to get any serious diseases in my future, such as cancer. This unreasonable coercion caused overwhelming anxiety resulting in me developing orthorexia and hypochondria. (Orthorexia is an obsessive preoccupation with eating foods that are healthy—and avoiding foods in the belief they are harmful. Hypochondria is worrying about having or developing a serious illness.)
Suddenly, the pressure to be as thin and healthy as possible became my top priority. “Nutritional purity” (following a strict dietary regime) became my obsession—and sadly, it was normalized and praised.
In fact, I received the most praise the darker the fixation became, not to mention the many compliments from complete strangers became intoxicating to my ego.
Admirers called me a rock star.
Fans wanted my autograph.
My life quickly turned into a Miss America pageant—and I was one of the contestants.
People were not only judging my appearance and size. . .but my health as well.
I didn’t want to disappoint anyone, so I reverted back to an old habit I’d developed in high school: skipping meals in order to quickly lose weight and shrink my waistline.
Unbeknownst to me, I was also becoming a poster child for disordered eating behaviors and a full-blown eating disorder.
A magazine editor would ask: “Do you weigh 133 pounds or 138 pounds?”
I wanted to be the lower number, so I’d fast for several days in order to quickly achieve it.
If I knew a photo shoot was approaching, I’d undereat or skip meals altogether in order to have the flattest stomach possible.
If I felt critically judged about my size, I would fast.
For example, when I was on the doctor’s TV show, for legal purposes, I had to weigh the same amount of weight as what I’d told the producer over the phone the week prior to that day.
So, I fasted for seven days--consuming only water for those seven days.
A medical intern brought a scale into the green room to check my weight—to make sure it matched what I had told the producer. I was fully clothed, mic’d, and wearing jewelry and shoes. Thankfully, the weight was spot on.
The live audience cheered and whistled with gusto.
Sadly, at my sickest is when I received the most praise—especially from the medical community.
I didn’t want to be a part of this toxic culture anymore—but I felt trapped—because my public persona was now deeply ingrained in being a weight loss success story. People were looking to me for inspiration and encouragement.
My tipping point was being in the midst a group of people who’d also lost a significant amount of weight.
We were instructed to line up in a hallway for a photo shoot.
One by one, we were each in the spotlight.
The photographer wanted a front view, side view, and back view.
Our bodies were on display.
As I stood there waiting my turn, I felt as if we were livestock at the county fair lined up for the judges’ critiques: front view, side view, back view. . .blue ribbon, purple ribbon, or Grand Champion ribbon.
I dutifully stood in front of the camera lens. Exposed. Feeling objectified and exploited.
The cognitive dissonance was real: promoting food as medicine while at the same time participating in weight loss marketing ads and campaigns felt uncomfortably incongruent.
And that was the day I decided to jump off the diet-wellness conveyor belt.
And that was the day I began the journey of reclaiming my health and sanity.
Here’s the full story: How Being a Weight Loss Success Story Triggered an Eating Disorder
Additional reading:
How to Recognize Diet-Wellness Culture
Do You Struggle with Uncontrollable Urges to Overeat?
Emily Boller, wife, mother, artist, and author is on a mission to create expressive works of art in her lifetime; and to bring awareness to the potentially harmful traps of diet-wellness culture.
In her free time, she loves to chase skyscapes, grow flowers and vegetables, and can homemade soups.
