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How my obsession to look healthy made me unhealthy

Coming-of-age is a Vantage column where staffers share their opinions on a specific beat. From in-depth analyses of TV series to miscellaneous musings in music (and everything in between), this monthly column is an avenue to spread and inspire thought-provoking ideas. 

In this column, Vantage Magazine Staffer Nicolette talks about her struggles and eventual path to recovery as a student and ex-athlete who dealt with an obsession with exercise, calories, and weight-counting throughout her teen years.

Trigger Warning: This article contains discussions of eating and exercise disorders, as well as body dysmorphia.

EXTREME THINNESS has always been idolized by society as a health marker for women. From 2010s thinspiration to 2020s #SkinnyTok, diet and exercise culture has always been inescapable. As a teenager, I couldn’t go a second without thinking about calories or the way I looked. The motto “Nothing tastes as good as skinny feels” by supermodel Kate Moss reassured my belief that restricting food would be worthwhile because I would look “skinny.”

When I started my fitness journey at 16, I aimed to look like the influencers and models I saw online. Back then, I had friends who introduced me to powerlifting—a strength sport focused on the squat, bench press, and deadlift. I lost weight naturally, as I participated in regional and national powerlifting competitions when I was 17 to 19. 

However, I became obsessed with the weight-class aspect of the sport. Initially, I wanted to lower my weight class for competitive purposes. I had to keep track of everything—calories, macronutrients, body weight—and suddenly, a sport intended to push me away from beauty norms instead fueled my bad habits of wanting to look skinny.

Even though I dropped a lot of weight and appeared to be the “healthiest” as people frequently complimented my figure, food became my biggest fear. My mood each day depended solely on how much I weighed. I was at the smallest body I have ever been, but the unhappiest, as I let the guilt of food and weight control me.

Movement, then, became a form of punishment.

There was not a single day I did not think about the calories I ate, how much I weighed, and how much cardio I would need to burn them off. My obsession reached a point where I skipped family and friend functions to avoid eating or missing a workout.

By my last powerlifting competition in early 2025, I weighed the lightest I had ever been—but it was obvious I was weaker and burning out. My period had not come in for about a year, I was always tired, and I could not lift as much as before. 

I realized, then, that my dream weight class and body, perhaps, was not a dream if it was such a nightmare to maintain.

So, I decided to take the leap. I stopped dieting and training for competition. I let myself eat to my own satisfaction rather than restriction. It was hard allowing myself to eat more without feeling guilty, but I was thankful to have my partner and friends encourage me that I was doing the right thing.

Eventually, I ditched the food scales and weight trackers. I started moving my body because I genuinely wanted to, without the pressure of conforming to athletic or beauty standards.

Sometimes, I wonder if others see me as someone who “let themselves go,” meaning someone who started paying less attention to their physical appearance. But I remind myself that I gained more than just weight. I gained a better relationship with food, more memories with my loved ones, and a mindset to train for strength—not smallness.

I am unsure if I will ever compete in powerlifting again, but if I do, I know I would not strain myself to reach a weight or physique that would deprive me of high energy and delicious meals.

After all, the younger me would be so delighted to know that I no longer equate my worth with a number on a scale, the weights I can lift, or the calories I consume. I’ve grown so much that even on bad body image days, instead of falling into angst, I now accept who I am, including the healthy body I’m blessed with.

As I continue to recover now at 20, it has never been clearer that Kate Moss lied, because for me, nothing is better than what a strong and well-fed person feels.

Got an idea for an opinion piece you want to share with us? Watch out for our call for Coming-of-age submissions this second semester!

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