My yo-yo weight journey

I’ve watched my weight for as long as I can remember, right back to my teens. The roller-coaster of weight has been such a constant part of my life that I sometimes wonder if my body’s default mode is fluctuate. Up-down, up-down. Ugh.

Looking back at photos of my younger self, I realize I wasted too much time disliking my thunder thighs and inherited cankles. I mean, no one but me cared. And I looked just fine, really.

Here’s what it is: when you’re young, you think your body isn’t so great. You’re always thinking it could be better. Then you get old and wish you could have back the body you had when you were young.

Barbara Kingsolver, The Poisonwood Bible

Well, ain’t that the truth! Kingsolver had it so right. When I read her excellent novel over two decades ago, it was this quote that struck me most, and stayed with me ever since.

Besides, for almost all of my life, until my cancer diagnosis, I was healthy as a horse—pardon the cliché. I rarely caught a cold and I don’t think I’ve run a fever more than twice in my close to 70 years. That good health I attribute to wholesome eating, plenty of sporty activities, and, undeniably, great genes.

But being a teenager dissatisfied with how I looked, I started to count calories. Plus, I adopted a lifelong habit of making my calories count. That meant avoiding things like sweet carbonated drinks, fast foods, and unappetizing processed foods. If I was going to splurge on chocolate, it had better be fabulous dark chocolate, not the sugary candy bars they misname as chocolate bars.

It didn’t help that Twiggy was the favored model of the day, and the medical charts told me that, for my height, I was overweight by about 10 pounds. I wish I had heard this sassy and sage voice set me straight when I was a teen! (Linked to a >2-minute viral TikTok video with well over 1M likes about the limitations of the Body Mass Index (BMI) as a measure of health by American athlete Ilona Maher.)

I now know when I am overweight, and, in hindsight, I certainly wasn’t in my teens or twenties, or even well into my forties.

That didn’t stop me from getting on the diet bandwagon. At 19, I started with the Atkins diet, long before it had an app and range of products to sell you. Much like the South Beach fad diet first popular two decades ago, or today’s favorite—the ketogenic diet—it was primarily about eating protein and reducing carbohydrates to what, for me, felt an unhealthy level. (I crave vegetables and fruit, both high in carbs.) I weighed and recorded details of every gram of food I put in my mouth. I also played squash three times a week in a court that had me going 150 steps down and climbing back up to go to my university classes. After five months of that, I had a severe case of constipation and had lost no more than two pounds. I swore off ever dieting again.

Never say never about anything, because if you do, life has a way of humbling you.

Mike Colter

Never say never, indeed. With healthy eating (mostly Mediterranean cuisine, and later Cantonese) and plenty of movement of all kinds, I stayed fit and fine until I hit perimenopause. Then a switch flipped, and the pounds gradually accumulated. I was doing everything right—tennis, hot yoga, swimming, aerobic dance, slept well, and ate well. I even started counting calories again—and yet, like so many women at this transitional time of life, I slowly gained more fat and lost muscle.

When I told my doctor all this, all she could offer was to say, “diet and exercise more.” I fired her.

I was determined to figure this out, and it was frustrating that the answer wasn’t immediate. Eventually, after some research and persistence (there was no Google then!), I learned that perimenopause often disrupts the thyroid gland, which plays a key role in regulating metabolism, energy levels, and overall hormonal balance. I then found an endocrinologist to diagnose me properly with hypothyroidism (an underactive thyroid), a common condition for many midlife women. After proper medication and, you guessed it, more calorie counting, my weight (and other related symptoms) came back to my normal.

The only person you are destined to become is the person you decide to be.

Nike ad 1991

It was a decade later when, once more, I was eating right, but just too much. It was also a time of relatively high work stress and less exercise than I was used to doing—both culprits in excessive weight gain. Ever so slowly, I packed on the pounds. When my pants barely closed, I finally had to admit to myself I was fat (for me) and that I needed to address that. From both the health and vanity perspectives, letting myself go was not an option.

Like many who handle weight gain well yet choose to want to be healthy, I came to understand that weight fluctuations are part of life and I allowed myself to start from a place of acceptance rather than shame. I set realistic goals that focused on well-being—and joyful living—rather than perfection.

Back to counting and recording calories. This time I followed Bright Line Eating, a weight-loss program focused on eliminating sugar and flour, eating only three meals a day without snacking, and following clear boundaries (or “bright lines”) to foster a healthy relationship with food. Fortunately, I already did have—and do have—a positive relationship with food. I care and inform myself about nutrition, I am focused and disciplined, but I am not obsessed.

It took me eight months to lose the weight of a car tire. Slow and steady is my way. It felt marvelous to fit well into my pants again.

Can you imagine what it would do to one’s energy level to carry a car tire around all day? I’m fatigued just thinking about it. I am fortunate not to have sleeping issues, but for others, such unwanted weight can disturb sleep, which in turn can lead to further weight gain, exacerbating both physical discomfort and possibly self-judgment and feelings of shame.

Speaking of health, throughout the years and this yo-yo weight journey, I remained conscious—adamant, even—that I did not ever wish to lose weight through illness. My lifelong commitment has been to health first. I’ve always appreciated my body for its strength and agility.

I am deeply grateful for having a good appetite and a love of tasty, nutritious food from a broad range of cuisines. It’s just portion-control I need.

Too much of a good thing can be wonderful.

Mae West

Until it’s not wonderful because you don’t like how big your butt has grown. LOL!

I was pleased with myself that I gained no weight over the first 20 months of the coronavirus pandemic when I rarely left our home. It was a period I paid attention to—and intentionally avoided—over-snacking, having learned my lessons the last time.

Cancer was a game-changer. Chemotherapy disrupted my normal pattern.

As I’ve written before, the weekly treatments starting in October 2021 quickly destroyed my hunger for food. Fortunately, I did not experience nausea or vomiting, as so many chemo patients do. Yet nothing tasted good, only bland or metallic, and I had no cravings for anything. My honey, the fabulous cook in our home, despaired trying to prepare meals that might please me. The one thing I could get through was my breakfast bowl of hot oatmeal-flax-chia with banana or fresh mango.

In hindsight, I wish the good medical care I received had been more holistic, to prepare me to take better self-care and help manage side effects. I would have benefited from specific nutrition tips, for instance. I might have focused more on nutrient-dense, high-calorie foods to help me maintain my energy and weight. Foods like avocados, nuts, smoothies with added protein, whole-fat dairy products, and high-protein options like eggs, fish, chicken, and tofu that provide more calories in smaller portions. Perhaps I’d also have considered adding supplements to my regime, especially a B-complex for red blood cell production and nerve health, two issues I still cope with.

I had little energy to exercise, as a friend who had gone through this before me sagely advised me to do. I forced myself to push through my fatigue and—with some loving nudges from my honey—to walk daily for 30 minutes around our subdivision. But it really wasn’t enough.

In very short order (just three months!), I lost almost another tire and a visible amount of muscle mass (yet not severe enough to signify sarcopenia or cancer cachexia, muscle-wasting conditions that cannot be fully reversed by conventional nutritional support). I ended the chemo sessions in 2022 at the weight I was in my early 20s; but of course, the middle-aged body I saw in the mirror had little resemblance to the one I had then. For the first time in my life, I felt frail.

I was also alarmed. Not for the aesthetics—I have sufficient self-compassion to look past that.

For the first time in my life, I felt I had to focus on developing my muscles, especially in my legs.

Those who think they have no time for bodily exercise will sooner or later have to find time for illness.

Edward Stanley

I ardently wanted—and still want—to remain mobile and flexible, boost my metabolism, and strengthen my bones. I continued walking and added other core exercises, like daily squats. My appetite returned, too.

After we crossed the Pacific Ocean to live in beautiful BC last year, I began to look and feel stronger in my legs as my honey and I regularly walked on undulating trails through old forest parks.

And that should be the end of this story. But it isn’t.

Two months ago, I had my first appointment with a family doctor. As is usual, the nurse measured my height and weight. To my shock, I had shrunk 4 cm/1.5 inch and gained back three quarters of a tire!

It was mid-summer, we had just moved into our new digs, and I was in no mood to count calories. Finally, three weeks ago, I said, “basta!” after I saw a photo of my big butt! I’m not JLo! (And please, I seriously do not care about anyone else’s behind; yours or JLo’s—live and let live remains my primary motto.)

And I’m not going to get any thinner or any younger, my ass is going to hit the ground, if it hasn’t already―and I want to be with somebody who can still see me in here. I’m still in here. And I don’t want to be resented or despised for changing…I’d rather be alone. 

Zadie Smith

My honey sees me in here, and I have no doubts about his love and support. There hasn’t been a squeak of discontent from him. That’s been important to me throughout my yo-yo journey. This is all about me; not about pleasing anyone else. And I’m not even beating myself up over any of it.

As I write this, I’m eating a slice of cherry pie. And I am three weeks back to counting calories. I’ve lost my first two kilos/four pounds. Just five kgs/11 lbs to go. I can do this.

To keep me focused, I use My Fitness Pal to record the calories and my Samsung phone to count steps. The two apps are synced. So, on a day like today, when I’ve walked well over an hour, I can eat the extra calories gained from movement. That’s for the pie. LOL. Gotta keep the joy.

That’s been my journey, but we all have our own complicated relationships with our bodies. So, how about you? What’s your body image story? How do you feel about the way it’s changed over the years?

PS. I’m happy to answer any questions you have.