Why I Quit Dieting and Picked Up a Barbell

TW/CW: disordered eating, fatphobia

I sometimes joke that if my guts could handle tap water in South America, they can handle anything. I recently told my mom the full truth of that statement: while living on the coast of Colombia in my early 20s, I drank unfiltered water (multiple times, on purpose) because I hoped I’d get a parasite and lose weight. I wanted to be thinner so badly I was willing to endanger my health.

Marilyn out with friends in Barranquilla, Colombia (2010.)

My eating was disordered for years; I just didn’t know to call it that. When I brought a protein bar to a birthday party and didn’t go near any of the food, I was praised for my discipline. When I quickly shed pounds, cutting carbs or eating one meal a day, people begged me to tell them my secret. I was always ready to share the gospel of paleo, keto, whole30, or whichever health trend was my personality at the moment. I didn’t share that I was weighing myself every day, and how that number could make or break my mood. I didn’t share the anxiety and lack of control I felt around foods that were “forbidden.” I didn’t talk about breaking down in tears in my kitchen while trying to figure out what to eat without going over my macros (it turns out that prolonged calorie restriction causes mood swings. Who knew?) People who haven’t lived with disordered eating don’t understand what it means — either you have an eating disorder or you don’t, right? But it isn’t that simple. Even orthorexia, widely understood as an obsessive focus on healthy eating, is not listed in the DSM-5 and not considered clinically diagnosable.

Three years ago, I made the decision to quit dieting. It really started with following body positive accounts on social media. I was so sick of fighting my body and never feeling good in my own skin, even at my lowest weight. In February 2020, I changed my Instagram name from “Putdownthecarbs” (I wish I was kidding) to “Mariwantsmuscles” (still silly, but it holds a different meaning for me now.) I started spending more time in the weight section at the YMCA and thinking about how to fuel myself better, slowly incorporating more carbs even though I was scared of weight gain. Shortly before the big lockdown of March 2020, I did a few workouts at a women’s-only fitness facility and joined their “wellness” challenge. Once the seriousness of the pandemic became evident, I gave up on food journaling and quit the challenge. People were literally dying; how was I supposed to care about my calorie consumption? For my own sanity, though, I threw myself into exercise, taking frequent walks and hikes to get away from my desk, and eventually hiring a strength coach to design programming for me that was doable with minimal equipment.

Social media isn’t always positive, but it’s how I found Mark Breedon (@training.strong.women), whose weight neutral approach to strength training helped me focus on what my body was capable of instead of what it looked like. He also connected me with Maria Terry (@vitamin_ri), an amazing dietitian in the anti-diet space whose content (and long-distance friendship) the past few years has literally been life-changing. It’s probably weird that I’ve never read an entire book on intuitive eating or body acceptance or anti-diet culture. But I’ve learned so much and gained so many tools from Maria and the many other weight-neutral and anti-diet practitioners I now follow. I could not have come this far without them.

The ‘gram is also where I first learned about powerlifting and started following loads of strong women of all different body types, ages, and backgrounds. I became so inspired that I joined a local powerlifting gym and started training with my amazing coach Tony Bonvechio (@bonvec_strength) as soon as things reopened in the summer of 2020. Though I’d dabbled in weightlifting for years, I’d never really handled a barbell and knew I needed a qualified coach if I was going to bench, squat, and deadlift heavy weight. The mindset that I’d started to cultivate during my months training with Mark dovetailed with powerlifting, a strength sport that is solely about what you can lift, not what you look like. My gym is an incredibly accepting community, and a place where I’ve grown in innumerable ways. Earlier this week, I bench pressed 140 lbs for 3 reps, something I could not have dreamed of back when the empty 45 lb bar felt impossibly heavy in my hands. And when I pressed that third single, my gym friends cheered for me, as they always do.

If you’re hoping this story ends with me losing weight unintentionally (once I stopped caring, the weight just fell off!) — you will be disappointed. In actuality, between quitting diets and training as a powerlifter, I’ve gained significant weight. I’m not sure how much since I no longer keep a scale, but I outgrew a lot of clothing. Sometimes I see pictures from my thinner days and feel a deep pang. I have to actively shut down the intrusive thoughts (you looked so much better back then! Maybe you should give up carbs again! Tracking your calories wouldn’t hurt…) and instead remind myself of the ways in which I was mentally suffering at the time that photo was taken. I remind myself of my anxiety around food and how obsessed I was with “health” and my appearance. And I remind myself of everything I’ve gained since ditching diet culture: a joyful relationship with exercise, the freedom to eat without guilt and shame, and a stronger mind/body connection.

Marilyn squatting 175 lbs at Bonvec Strength in West Boylston, MA (May 2023)

At 35, I’m physically — and, I believe, mentally — stronger than I’ve ever been. I honor my body by eating enough to sustain my workouts and my daily activities. I strive for well rounded nutrition (and enough protein for those gains) but I don’t overthink it and I don’t deny myself treats. I no longer “lose control” around certain foods because I know I can always have them. (Did you know that restriction is usually the cause of binging? My mind was blown when I learned this.) I don’t comment on other peoples’ bodies, and my conversations don’t revolve around dieting. When other folks bring up their diets or make comments about being “good” or “bad” based on what they’re eating, I try to steer the conversation in a different direction. With some folks, I’ve set clear boundaries to stop them from commenting on my body or my plate. I try to talk to the kids around me about being active and strong, without ever bringing up weight. I think of how powerful that would have been for me as a chubby, asthmatic kid who saw exercise as something you only did if A. you played a sport, or B. you were trying to lose weight. Back then, I didn’t know any adults who exercised for reasons like fun, stress management, longevity, community, and challenge.

I look at the 50, 60, and 70-year-olds I know in powerlifting and feel incredibly inspired. Anti-aging, for me, is not about aesthetics; it’s about functional strength and mobility. It’s about living independently and still doing the things I love as I get older. I empathize with others’ preoccupation with avoiding wrinkles, but I can’t relate. If I’m still alive in 40 years, I’ll be damn proud to take my wrinkled self to the gym, and up and down mountains, and on trips around the world. I just hope that by then, I’ll be breaking powerlifting records with my muscle mama bestie Tina (@tinaweeenah) still by my side.

Tina & Marilyn, friends since age 12. Photo taken at Bonvec Strength (Jan. 2023)