What happens when we lean into diet culture
I didn't intend for this next post to mirror the topic of the last, but sometimes inspiration/frustration strikes too hard to be ignored. Diet culture, we're picking back up from where we left off.
How I’ve observed those around me play a part in diet culture makes me think they’re experiencing some sort of Stockholm syndrome. Catching words tumbling out of their mouths, pausing to comment on their distasteful sentiments, before proceeding to embrace them regardless. Do I hear myself? Wow, that was toxic of me. Whoops, how problematic. Oh well. Nothing does taste as good as skinny feels, etc, etc.
Today, I’m the most done with the world I have been in a while. Nothing is sitting right within me; I’m an intolerable combination of restless and sad and dejected. I don’t have the energy to rail against unrealistic female body ideals, nor those who espouse them, no matter how subconsciously. (Okay, maybe I actually do, since I’m choosing to write on the subject.) What I mean is that I’m sick of having to laugh off the comments about X diet equalling being deserving of Y ‘reward’, as if what is being said is sooooo relatable. What happened to body neutrality in the last five years? It’s as if we never left 2009.
We joked about this fact in the changing room after work. I shouldn’t really say “we”, because it’s misleading - I wasn’t complicit. I ‘joked’, perhaps though (emphasis on the inverted commas). Which is what one must do in a room of partially clothed, new-to-me colleagues whose FAVOURITE topic to weave into any conversation is “being good” in a food/exercise context. Whatever that means. All I know is that my version of “good” is not the norm among this group. Here are all the things I take their “good” to mean. In slightly more words (and trigger warning for some abominable noughties-coded, toxic diet chat):
cancelling out a pain au chocolat by going on a run! because all sugar and fat must be excised from our bodies;
not having a pint after said run because that then cancels out the cancelling out! don’t drink your calories, whatever you do;
eat more fruit but definitely, definitely don’t drink your fruit in boujee, shop-bought smoothie form because then you’ll be able to see the sugar content in grams on a label and you will be compelled to tell the person sitting next to you that you “wouldn’t have bought this if you’d known it was so unhealthy”;
remember: full-fat dairy is a fast track to a body you will hate even more than your current one;
consume cake less frequently than once a once a week because otherwise you’ll end up on insulin;
having a lunch that is big enough to stave off comments of concern from those you’re eating with, while not being so big as to attract mockery/jibes;
making sure that when you eat something that is calorie-dense, you explain why this is allowed (for example, you could say that you 1) didn’t have breakfast; 2) ate a lunch that was deliberately measly because you’re on a diet, but in retrospect might have been a tad too small so if you don’t have some chocolate/crisps/whatever you might pass out; or 3) won’t have any more of the chocolate/crisps/whatever all week/month/year after this, so don’t worry, guys!!)
being vegan/veggie or a protein girlie, but ideally both;
being a member of a gym that you loooove going to so much that you want to list all the things that make it so great to your captive audience of like-minded friends at every opportunity;
immediately assuage any ‘concerns’ of prospective holiday weight gain with assurances that you will be quadrupling your usual daily step count while you’re away;
having a job that means you’re on your feet because those calories won’t burn themselves! (they. literally. burn. themselves. as. we. digest. them.)
I could go on. But I needn’t.
I want to scream because I can relate to the above. I have to yell at myself inside my own head daily so as not to let all of *that type* of crap cripple me, so engrained is the mantra of “eating less and moving more”, among other overly simplistic alternatives. We have all had to deal with this our whole lives - we should be joining forces to topple Big Diet, not accepting our fate as its defenceless prey. Being neurodivergent and having had the issues with disordered eating and exercise addiction that I have had, I cannot put myself in the shoes of someone who is still unapologetically mired in weight loss culture. The only thing you should be cleansing is the outside of your face! Leave the insidiously marketed green juice in the fancy fridge it came from!
I worry about proselytising on this subject when I meet people whose approach to coping with diet culture is different to my own. I fear coming across smug - “guys, you really just need to leave your hangups at the supermarket automatic doors and eat what you crave!!” Or entitled, as if I have the right to make my peers stop and analyse their submissiveness in the face of what we’re told the “perfect body” is. They don’t want to hear from me that their ideal figure is the one they already have. They want diet accountability partners and someone to take sweaty gym selfies with. And an entourage to agree with them when they complain about having “piled on the Christmas pounds”. I’m honestly not mocking here; I am utterly empathetic to our joint plight as pawns in a capitalist society. Where multinationals succeed at the expense of our our self-esteem. But I still find myself wondering, how are you all still under their spell?
I want to shake past me and tell her that if she continues to lose weight, it’s not her who wins, because she’s not maximising her potential for identifying what is truly wrong with the world. (Yes, I know, wild concept here, but buying clothes one - or a few - sizes up is not as big a deal as whatever bills the government is currently trying to force through.)
Perhaps a bad example, the above, because political goings-on don’t often feel that immediately relevant to us as individuals, living inside our own cluttered minds. What is relevant to all of us though is our own happiness *gags in cliché*. And chasing perfection is no way to live if that is the goal. Most of us know this, but have been conditioned to value comments about our appearance over and above the compliments that truly matter.
I too appreciate being told I look nice. Praise about my appearance makes me spiral though, as I worry about being able to ‘sustain’ what it is I have been commended for. Whether it be my skin, hair, silhouette, or something else. It’s evidence to support the theory that we are never content because we’re always chasing the next tickbox. An infuriating predicament for us humans to contend with.
When I feel that I have been sufficiently accepted into a social group, I am more likely to open up about my issues regarding all of the above. Then, perhaps, I will be rewarded with a reduction in diet chat in my vicinity. Or I might ostracise myself. When you’re as socially anxious and autistic as me, these things are even harder to predict than they might otherwise be. Or, if I subtly drop into the next weight loss conversation that I have a dietitian, maybe that will be enough of a springboard for deep and meaningful, diet-debunking conversation? Let’s see.
It’s no coincidence that I am bed-bound with exhaustion this evening, after dealing with toxic body image garbage all day. Insecurities have wormed their way in to my head and are proving hard to shift - it’s why I wanted to write this, really. To offload about the ridiculousness of societal expectations and how we take on the unhelpful, even dangerous, attitudes peddled to us from a young age. I want to absolve myself of the guilt I can’t help but feel as a result of rebelling against ‘being good’. (And I am definitely certified ‘bad’, because I eat cake every day…)
