What It’s Really Like to Be a Heavy Woman at the Gym—and Why Losing Weight Isn’t My Goal

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Before the confetti is even swept up and as hangovers are still being nursed, many of us solemnly resolve to do things differently in the new year—which often means spending more time at the gym. Trying anything new is intimidating, but when you walk through the world in a larger body, stepping out of your comfort zone can make you feel especially self-conscious.

That’s even more true at the gym, where plus-size people often face self-imposed shame about working out. The reality of gym culture is rarely one of self-acceptance; going to the gym implies a need to change.

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Over the years, I’ve made what feels like a million promises to myself to get off the couch. When I do finally get in the groove of working up a sweat on a regular basis, it’s always great for me and I get easily addicted. But as I’ve gained weight and gotten older, I’ve found myself in a familiar shame spiral that prevents me from starting something new.

Like so many plus-size women, I convince myself that it somehow makes sense to lose weight and get in shape before I start working out. It’s like cleaning for the housekeeper (which for the record, I do not do). But I know I’m not alone in getting a familiar sinking feeling of entering a new exercise space, then feeling judged, or worse, pitied.

What ‘fit-shaming’ sounds like

When it first became trendy in New York, I did a lot of Bikram yoga. I fell in love with it. As with most of my obsessive phases, I eventually moved on. Years later—and considerably heavier—I dropped into a class. I hadn’t done any exercise in years and the heat really got to me, so I sat down during a standing pose to catch my breath.

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The teacher asked if me if I was okay, but it was clear he was annoyed. At the end of class in front of everyone he said, “If you’re not able to stand for even one full class you should really see a doctor.” Ouch. The irony is that when I had been thinner I also had to sit down—and even left the room when I first started—but no one ever commented that there might be something wrong with me. Needless to say I was mortified and felt too ashamed to return.

During one particularly sedentary phase of my life, I talked to my therapist about how I really needed to start working out again. About a year before, I had done a series of cross-training sessions. Of all the workouts I’ve tried, it was the most effective for losing weight quickly. I told her how I was thinking of going back to it, how I knew I “should.”

She questioned why I ever left. I knew exactly why—I hated it! So she pushed me, asking why I would pay money (so much money) for something I hated and couldn’t sustain the last time in the hopes that I would lose weight. What kind of success model is that? Her words sunk in. I stopped thinking about working out in terms of weight loss and more about self-care.

Now one of my biggest frustrations is the immediate assumption that gym-goers are working out just to lose weight. People have a myriad of reasons for getting fit and strong, and it’s demeaning that the main way we measure success is by losing inches. Recently when discussing a workout, I actually had someone put her hand on my hip and say “you’ll get there.” The message I wanted to send was that I’m already there—that working out at all and participating in self care is an accomplishment.

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People often see me in workout clothes and tell me that they are so “proud of me,” and one woman cheerfully remarked, “You’re disappearing!” I understand that being thinner is the assumed goal. We congratulate each other on body alterations all the time, wanted or not. While we profess that women’s bodies are off limits to judgment (ha!), all any woman has to do is lose 10 pounds to know that her body is fair game to be discussed openly at cocktail parties and in conference rooms. 

Until recently, losing weight had always been my primary motivation for exercise, but my objective has shifted to trying to make peace with my body. Ironically, exercise has helped me achieve that more than it ever helped me to lose weight. Feeling stronger and setting physical goals—and then crushing them—has given me a new found confidence and respect for myself. 

The workout that helped me find body peace

When I was at my highest weight ever I discovered SoulCycle. I know people have their criticisms of this expensive workout, during which instructors shout out spiritual encouragement. But I connect to it in the most major way. I feel stronger and more fit than ever. People are so welcoming, and there is a real plus-size community of support. Never does an instructor spout encouragement that has anything to do with getting smaller. Most of the talk is pushing yourself to make goals happen off the bike. 

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When I work out, I want people to look at me at my weight and think that if I can do it, they can too. One of the advantages to being older is that I can more easily check my ego at the door than I could 15 years ago. When I started spinning, it was back row only, and I sat down for most of the class. I don’t think I would have kept up with it if I hadn’t allowed myself to start so slowly. But pushing myself in class and ultimately sticking with it has brought success to my life off the bike.

How to love the gym no matter your size

If your resolution is to get more exercise, I applaud you, but consider doing it for reasons other than losing a few dress sizes. Try not to be intimidated at the gym and offer the same compassion to yourself as you would to a friend starting something new. Don’t be afraid to make modifications, and while you should give every new venture a chance, if you don’t love it, seek out an activity you do love. Find a place where you are supported and encouraged, and once you become a regular, pass that support onto someone else.


What It’s Really Like to Be a Heavy Woman at the Gym—and Why Losing Weight Isn’t My Goal

Mental Health and Training

I wasn’t sure where I wanted to post this or if I wanted to post it at all, but today I’d like to talk a little bit about how my mental health (specifically depression) affects my training. I figure someone out there is likely dealing with the same types of issues.

I’ll start off with some background information about me.

From time to time, I find myself (mentally) in what I call the Dark Place. I like this metaphor because when I picture it, the darkness isn’t absolute. Near the edges, it’s a little bit dim, but I can find my way back. The further in I go, the darker it is, the harder it is to get back out. It’s also appropriate because my intermittent depression seems to be directly linked to lack of sun exposure (seasonal affective disorder – SAD)

If that’s the case, then why am I presenting as SAD in the summer? I think right now part of my issue is that I work in an office with no windows (as many people do), and I’m very isolated at work (this will change as the semester kicks into gear).

What does this have to do with fighting/fitness?

When you’re depressed, you aren’t just sad all the time. I like to look at the word itself: depress. I feel like something is pressing down on me mentally, physically, and emotionally. I sleep more, and my appetite is strange (no appetite, huge appetite, selective appetite – all over the course of a day or two). I’m sure you could see how those factors alone could hinder someone’s ability and desire to work out.

The biggest factor for me, though, is just not caring. Don’t mistake this for the not caring that I do on a regular basis: not caring what strangers think of my appearance, not caring if I get to the party on time, etc. This is not caring in a way that would be alarming if you had the inclination to care. For example, I love fencing. It’s one of my favorite things in the world. I love doing it, reading about it, watching videos, talking about it, teaching it. I often refer to it as “my heart.” When you’re depressed though, when something is pressing down on you from all sides, you don’t care about your hobbies any more. If eating three squares and getting a good amount of sleep is a chore, then getting up, driving to a specified location at a specified time, gearing up, and practicing for an hour or two sounds impossible.

So what are we to do?

This is the hard part. If I had one perfect answer, I wouldn’t really have this problem anymore. Instead, I have a bunch of okay answers.

  • talk about it – You’d be surprised how many people are going through this same thing. It’s one reason why I’m sharing my experience. Frequently, talking about it helps both sides; don’t assume you’re burdening someone else. If you have the means, seek professional help. They really do know what they’re doing, and they can give you objective insight.
  • take breaks – Usually I say that the day that I don’t want to practice is the day I really need to go to practice. Sometimes, though, you’re better off resting. I wouldn’t fence on a sprained ankle, so I’m not going to push my brain too hard either. Know your limits.
  • self-care – This is super important, but it can easily be mistaken for “cheering yourself up.” Try to do three things each day that make you happy. I’m not talking about big crazy plans here. I’m talking about lighting a candle you really like, taking a long bath, eating something you enjoy, or watching an episode of your favorite show.
  • treat yourself kindly – Don’t think of being in the Dark Place or skipping practice as a failure. That will only make you feel worse. Every time I find myself genuinely thinking something disparaging about myself, I counter it with one good thing. It’s hard to avoid intrusive thoughts, but replacing them with something else is easier.
  • make a schedule – If your eating and sleeping are erratic, set a time to eat, even if you aren’t hungry. No matter what you’re training to do, eat something that appeals to you. You need calories to fuel your body. Even if you can’t sleep, set a time to rest. You might luck out and catch some zzz’s, and if you don’t, that’s okay because you’re still letting your body recharge a little.
  • don’t be afraid to be sad – Think of your feelings like an interesting rock. You can pick it up, turn it over in your hands a few times, examine it. You can spend a lot of time looking at this rock, running your fingers over the cracks. But at the end of the day, it’s just a rock, and you have enough stuff collecting dust at your house. When you’re finished with it, put it down and keep walking.
  • don’t forget that feeling something (even if it’s bad) is progress – The worst thing for me about the Dark Place is the numbness. I haven’t cried since I started feeling this way. It’ll come eventually (possibly intensely and for a long period of time), and when it does, that will be a step in the right direction.
  • use media to your advantage – Okay, so I can’t cry over my own situation. However, I’m pretty sure I can cry over someone else’s. Tonight I’m going to watch a few episodes of Grey’s Anatomy and have strong feelings about other people’s problems even though I can’t be bothered to care about my own. That’s what media is for. Enjoy your books, shows, movies, memes, whatever. Experience them. That’s why they’re there.

I didn’t mean for this to be so long, but I’ve been kicking a lot of this around in my head, and I really didn’t want to leave anything out. I’m sure I left plenty of stuff out, so if you have any questions, comments, or additional good words, please let me know!

*Special thanks to my student, who helped me fill in some gaps.*