9 Things No One Told Me About Losing Weight

When I hit party dress season in December 2013, I noticed that some of my clothes were too tight. Well, I said to myself, you've invested a lot in your nice clothes. Better lose some weight. Like thousands of people around the world, I started in early January. Unlike most of those people, I actually succeeded. I dropped 20 pounds and four dress sizes, which is quite a lot on a 5'1" frame.

I guess this is the part where I share how I emerged a svelte butterfly from a cocoon made of sheer willpower. Honestly, I liked myself already. Here is a list of nine things no one told me about losing weight. No fitness evangelizing, promoting disordered eating, or fat-shaming allowed.

IN NO PARTICULAR ORDER:

1. Exercise will give you more energy in the long run, but it is exhausting in the beginning. I think this is the reason a lot of people quit going to the gym around January 21. No matter how slowly you take it, you're still pushing your body in new ways. If you pair this with a brand new diet? Get ready to need about 9-10 hours of sleep a night.
2. You will look in the mirror and not like what you see. This was a bizarre paradigm shift for me. I was used to putting on my clothes and giving myself a mental thumbs up as I brushed my hair. A weight loss goal meant I no longer had the body I wanted. Suddenly I was standing in my underwear, surrounded by a pile of clothes that didn't conceal my flaws. It was like being 16 again.
3. Getting stronger will help combat your newfound (or old) self-hatred. Significant weight loss takes a long time to show. It's a lot easier to find joy in new things you can do with your body: touch your toes, do more push-ups, run longer distances. More than anything, I think having fun with my body helped me lose the weight. I didn't want to be 16 again, waiting for someone or something else to come along and make me beautiful. I did want to hold a scorpion pose in yoga. Becoming less frail superseded my "clothes that fit" goal. I started smiling at my reflection again.
4. But it's still hard to find a fitness/health community that doesn't encourage self-hatred and fat-shaming. In between the occasional nod to loving yourself just the way you are (heartstarkiss), there is so much talk of annihilating fat. Destroying your thunder thighs/stomach flab/cellulite/offensive body. Eating clean because salmon is somehow morally superior to cake, even though both are delicious. Your body is the visual measure of your character, your use to society, and your worth as a person. Digesting some of this horrible narrative (see what I did there?) is a cultural inevitability. I try to avoid contributing. I can exist as a thin person without demonizing fat people. I can certainly acknowledge that even though it's always open season on women's bodies, I have the most privileged form of female body there is.
5. Learning to feed yourself is an act of self-love. I say "feed yourself" and not "cook" because there was a long winter a few years ago when even making pasta felt like too much effort. I was depressed for a lot of reasons. I lost 10 pounds. I felt like a corpse. If you are in that place, or if you just hate cooking, go for the takeout. The current me who cooks is not worth more than the past me who was barely functioning. The me who weighed 20 pounds more still deserved to eat, too. I still eat ice cream because I love how it tastes. I choose to give myself an enjoyable sensory experience with zero guilt or shame involved.
6. Replacing all of your clothes is expensive. Remember how I was losing weight to fit into my clothes better? That required losing inches off my waist, but to do that, you have to lose inches everywhere else. I got some clothes tailored (which was expensive, but not as expensive as new clothes) but had to bid sad farewell to one of my favorite work dresses. "I can't afford to replace all my professional wear" is a powerful argument against weight loss when you're as broke as most members of my generation. I think the money I saved cooking at home all went to my wardrobe.
7. You can go on vacation without erasing all of your progress. I said to hell with macros and calorie counting and my exercise calendar for, oh, all of July. I still moved around a lot (hooray, walking tours of European cities!) and ate until I was full (and drank my two complimentary glasses of wine at dinner). The world did not end. My clothes still fit. I did not experience significant muscle loss. When I was finally home for good, I went back to cooking for myself and working out.
8. Absolutely everyone you know will feel like they have permission to comment on your body. Some people might enjoy this. People! Noticing visible signs of progress! Validation! I found all of the fuss, which mostly happened at work, incredibly uncomfortable. It was like walking around with a medal around my neck, except I never wanted to run the Who Can Be the Thinnest Marathon. I feel awful for people who lose weight because they're sick. What do they say? "Thanks to my horrible medical condition, I lost two pants sizes!" As a woman, I'm no stranger to unsolicited comments on my body. It's bizarre when they come from people you like and respect, people who think they're paying you a compliment. Tell me I look wonderful--without mentioning the size of my waist.
9. The illusion of power is addictive. I've read that eating disorders are all about control. I avoided any kind of diet or food tracking for a long time, recognizing the potential in my teenage self. Changing your body feels like changing your destiny. The inevitabilities (death, taxes, student loans) still exist, but I have absolute, perfect control over one thing. That's all in my head, of course--ask anyone who's ever gotten sick. Still, measurements create a sense of predictability. This many inches around my bust. This tablespoon of olive oil. This set of pull-ups. One, two, three: I'm the most powerful person in my space. Then I walk down the street and a strange man demands, "Why you so beautiful? Say thank you!"