Last week, Vega Bharadwaj documented her experience as a non-athlete beginning to exercise in college. “Though I’m not overweight,” she wrote, “I felt the shape of my body just wasn’t good enough to fit the University standard.” In advance of my commentary, I want to thank Vega for her piece. If she hadn’t written it, I would not be writing this. Like Vega, I needed a push from a stranger to tell my story.
Everyone changes during their four years in college, but only a few of us have a physical transformation as dramatic as our emotional and intellectual development. Without shame and hopefully, without arrogance, I will say it: I have lost over 65 pounds since July 2012. From first to third year, I have lost five sizes and shrunk from an extra large to a small. Learning to love and respect my body, I am now working towards a new goal.
I never know how to respond to the flattering, “You look great! What’s your secret?” or “How do you do it?” I exercise and count calories, I tell them. But this isn’t the full answer. I will tell you now: the secret isn’t all that fancy or surprising. It is simultaneously simple and terrifying, enough to stop most from even considering formulating a weight loss plan or setting a single foot in Mem Gym or the AFC. It is fundamentally mental, not physical. The secret is this: belief. Belief in the pleasure and bliss of the unknown. Belief that for the first time, you can resist that second brownie, run that extra three minutes, move that belt buckle in one more hole. Belief in possibility. Most of all, belief in others’ compassion, support and acceptance — particularly from the regulars at the gym.
In her article, Vega described the athletically inclined men and women who run at all times of day and night around Grounds. I used to feel as she does, resenting their God-given talent; they were “a constant reminder of our own ineptitude.” But one day, I found the blog post Hey, Fat Girl. Written by a runner, the piece speaks directly to the fears held by most inexperienced, overweight athletes beginning their weight loss journey. Yes, the title is problematic and insensitive. I do not condone Fat Talk. But now, as a thinner version of this same “Fat Girl,” I think this jarring language is necessary. Read the piece, then reconsider: when speaking positively about weight loss, we must force people to open their eyes and see what has been right in front of them the whole time. Pretending weight loss is merely a fiction or fantasy diminishes people’s belief that they too can defeat the odds, shed the pounds and forevermore change their lives.
For belief to truly be all it takes, conversations about body image, weight loss and weight gain cannot be stigmatized, quieted or resisted given the temptations and challenges of the college environment. Everyone knows alcohol has an absurd amount of calories, most of us fall prey to late-night study snacking, dining halls are not conducive to self-control nor do they offer the most nutritious options, college-aged women and men cope with high rates of eating disorders and many see the gym as a privileged, unwelcoming environment, though college is the only time in our lives when we will receive a free gym membership. Why aren’t we actively talking about these issues, providing solutions and alternatives? Why are we so scared to publicly admit what we all know about our bodies and how we use and abuse them in college? We must begin to open up a dialogue, respecting the ignored but blatantly visible.
If you see people like me running on McCormick Road, we will be sweaty and red-faced, making only unintelligible grunts. But maybe you will now look at us differently, not in judgment, jealousy or anger, but in curiosity: what does she believe about herself and people around her? Does she believe in the momentary, fleeting eye contact you have just made? Yes, she does.
I believe I was able to lose a significant amount of weight and keep it off because I talked about it with my friends and family — every single step of the way.
I can end only with these words: “If you’d look me in the eye only for an instant, you would notice the reverence and respect I have for you. The adventure you have started is tremendous; it leads to a better health, to renewed confidence and to a brand new kind of freedom. The gifts you will receive from running will far exceed the gigantic effort it takes you to show up here, to face your fears and to bravely set yourself in motion, in front of others.”
Haley Swartz is a third-year in the College.
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