It’s bland. It’s boring. The same overpriced meals, day after day - scanning aisle after aisle, waiting for something to scream at you: “EAT ME.”
Then you pick it up. Turn it around.
“800 calories in this bar of chocolate?!”
Back on the shelf it goes.
Feel familiar?
The guilt. The shame. The constant feeling that something is wrong with the way you eat - even if you’ve never called it an “issue.” It’s common for us gym-goers to get so wrapped up in food tracking and calorie counting that we actually don’t notice, we've been rewiring our brains.
We start to believe we don’t deserve that bar of chocolate. That a single KitKat will somehow erase all of our hard work.
Slowly, over time, this small habit of neglecting what your soul so clearly needs floods into your daily routine. Before you know it, you’re buying food you hate to eat, scoffing down eggs upon eggs because “that’s where the protein is!” - and, all in all, creating a violent eating disorder for yourself.
When I started lifting in October of 2023, I thought the gym would “fix” me. I was at war with a raging alcohol addiction, I needed structure, and I thought training would give me a new body, a new mindset - hopefully even a new relationship with food.
Instead, it exposed the truth I’d been hiding: I had no idea how to eat without guilt.
I had come to believe it was a me thing - that I was the only one going through this. My struggle with eating had been a long one, honestly, since I was a child I thought something was wrong with me, constantly asking myself, “Why the hell can’t I just EAT?!”
I tucked my issues away, but the floodgates always open eventually. I could go weeks without eating, surviving on a strict diet of sugary tea. It caught up with me when I became violently sick - physically unable to eat without throwing up. Moving was painful. My soul craved food, but my body was repulsed by it.
Though back then it made me weak, depressed, and lifeless, I’m thankful I went through these struggles as a young girl. Now, as a woman, I can spot the cycle beginning and break it - for myself, and hopefully for anyone reading this, before it ever tornadoes out of control again.
Some days, I eat for strength.
Some days, I skip meals out of shame.
Some days, I give myself grace - and honestly, that’s the hardest part.
I’m learning that fueling my body isn’t punishment or reward. It’s survival. It’s part of taking my power back. Every meal I eat without shame, and every lift I finish with pride, is a quiet act of rebellion against the voice in my head that says I’m not enough - that I don’t deserve the simple pleasure of eating.
Take yourself out for good food. Fuel your body with nutrients. Drink water - it’s magical. Even pizza and chocolate have their benefits when it comes to lifting.
You’re alive. Act like it.
