I Want To Workout But I Don't Want To Lose Weight

My siblings and I grew up close to our cousins. We lived in the same building, so we spent our childhood playing, eating, and helping each other with homework. Of course, we also fought, but we would make up immediately—the way only close cousins and siblings can. As I got older, however, I started to suspect that I was different from them. There were signs—like my belly, which protruded more than theirs, my cheeks, which were rounder and fuller, and that one of my thighs was the size of theirs! But what really made me realize I was different was, well, everyone told me so.

Not a day went by without hearing a comment about my body. With every remark and every piece of unsolicited advice, I lost more autonomy over my body. Suddenly, everyone around me was an expert on fatness—and on my body. My body was fat, and that was my fault. How could I trust myself?

Without realizing it, I lost control over my body. I couldn’t identify hunger or fullness cues anymore, and I developed body dysmorphia. I started buying clothes that were either too big or too small. My body became foreign to me, and I began to resent it. I came to rely on others to tell me what I felt and what my body needed.

The solutions people offered varied in wording, but they always boiled down to these two "tips":