The New Rules of My Body Image

I’ve always had a skewed body image. I would vacillate from feeling pretty good about myself and then feeling terrible: hating every little bit of me. I first gained a lot of weight in fifth grade; moving to Mexico, I lost it all and didn’t think much about the teasing I endured in said fifth grade. Then we moved back and I gained weight again. This, coupled with the racist attitudes of Saline, made me miserable. I hated my body. I hated where I was. I did nothing about it.

During college, I finally got up the courage and determination to do something—I lost 65 pounds in one year, through diet and exercise. I became a rabid runner, totaling up to 30 miles per week at my peak. I was skinny, suddenly considered pretty (I was one of those girls who was always told she had such a pretty face), and I was still looking in the mirror and seeing my 200-plus pound self. No matter how small my clothes got, not matter how little I ate, I wasn’t satisfied with myself.

I would say this last up until the middle of 2009. Yep, that long.

When I moved to D.C., I no longer had the time or energy to run 30 miles per week; I commuted for two hours a day (still do), I wanted to spend time with my then-boyfriend IP, and I was willing to sacrifice running a little bit for that. Then May 2006 hit and the dress that had fit me perfectly the summer before was too tight. I had indulged too much. I was up 10 pounds, and not even training for a marathon brought me down to my fighting weight (which was about 10 pounds above college weight, but those were 10 pounds that didn’t really bother me). I absolutely hated my body from 2006 to mid-2009. I wanted nothing more than to get down to the mid-140s again, wear a size 8, and not think I was a fatty.

Problem was, I used to think I was a fatty when I was a size 8. Why I thought it would be different this time around without a radical change in the way I approached my body, I don’t know.

I had been weightlifting since 2007, but I never prioritized it—I always thought cardio was the only way I’d lose weight and keep it off. I went on Weight Watchers in 2007, lost about 12 pounds (bringing me down to 145 pounds), but: I was always hungry, I still thought I was too paunchy, and I didn’t eat enough on WW to sustain the activity I did. I remember struggling to stay within my prescribed 21-point range (roughly 1,100 calories) and feeling guilty when I didn’t. I saw limited muscle gain. I couldn’t maintain my eating and my exercise plan. And I didn’t understand what I was doing wrong.

Um, duh?

That duh didn’t click until I read The New Rules of Lifting for Women by Lou Schuler, Cassandra Forsythe and Alwyn Cosgrove. Muscle gain, not cardio, Schuler argues, is the key to fitness and long life. And to build that muscle, you have to fuel appropriately. Commit the time to building the muscle, feed your muscles well, and you’ll see results.

Boy. Did I!

In the time I’ve been doing NROL4W, I’ve gone down a pants size (I was hovering in the 10/12 range; I am now 8/10), my upper body has gotten more defined, and my legs are killer. I’ve lost about 1.5 inches at my hips and at my waist (an aside: my waist-to-hip ratio has always been pretty close to 0.7, no matter what my weight is at the time). Pants that I bought last fall and winter that were too tight on me are now loose on me. Guess how much weight I’ve lost?

Nada. Zero. Zip. None. I am still in the 155-157 range of last summer, and the range that my body appears to have preferred over the years. Difference? My body fat percentage has gone down and is now hovering in the fitness range. And I’m not even done with all seven stages of the program.

What’s been revolutionary for me, though, is that since I started seeing muscle gain and the weights I’ve been lifting have gotten heavier and more challenging, is that I don’t have negative thoughts about my body anymore. I don’t hate it all. I’m proud of my body—of what’s it done, what it’s going to do (I think the original New Rules of Lifting is next for me), and how it’s reacted happily to this change in my exercise plan. I don’t do as much cardio as I used to (just the high intensity interval training recommended by the program, plus an occasional longer run just to prove I can still do it). When I’m bloated, I don’t think “Fuck, I’m fat” like I used to—I think, “Have some water, maybe you’ll feel better.” I don’t stare at my belly in dismay anymore, lamenting the fact that it’s not flat—it isn’t, but it sure has benefited from the ab exercises in NROL4W. I have stopped comparing myself to other women—no longer do I see an actress with skinny arms and say “Man, wish I was that slim.” Instead, I giggle gleefully at the definition in my biceps and triceps. I am strong, and that kicks ass.

And food. Food! I used to divide food into good and bad groups; now it’s all just fuel. I enjoy food, I love it, and I’m not going to deprive myself. I do try to be conscious of what I eat—I’m trying to fuel for muscle gain, after all, so my protein intake has gone up while my carb intake has decreased slightly. I track my calories, yes, and I do weigh my food, but I like knowing what’s going into my body. And? I don’t cut my calories to an impossible 1,500 (because let’s be honest: that’s not a lot) per day. I factor in my activity and I usually end up eating anywhere from 1,800 to 2,200 calories per day. And I’m seeing muscle gain and fat loss. Without depriving myself and without thinking foods are “bad” for me. I also give myself a day in which I don’t count my calories (Fridays)—I still don’t overeat and I find myself gravitating towards the foods that’ll fuel more muscle gain. But hell, because I refuse to fall into old habits of deprivation, I have an ice cream sandwich almost every night. I enjoy food at all levels, and I see it as an ally in getting stronger, not an enemy keeping me from my fitness goals.

I’m listening to my body, in other words. If it says feed me, I feed it. Know when it’s hungriest? On the days I lift and do a bit of cardio. Know when it’s not? The days I sit around reading and writing. I listen to the cues and eat accordingly. I thought that would be hard. Turns out it’s not.

(IP has been telling me this stuff for years, too. Why I didn’t listen, I don’t know. To his credit, too, IP loves me at my heaviest and at my lightest and everywhere in between—as long as I don’t lose my butt, he says, he’s a happy man. He is the Italian Sir Mix-a-Lot. He also says the lifting I’m doing with NROL4W is killer; he may do NROL with me.)

I highly recommend this program to everyone. Not only does it make your stronger, but it tells you flat out that starving yourself towards thin is the wrong approach—women need to hear that because all we ever hear about is cutting down to 1,200-1,500 calories per day. It tells women that, no, we will not become female Arnold Schwarzeneggers; we will become strong, our muscles will be defined, but we couldn’t possibly get that “big” because our body doesn’t support it. It tells us that our metabolisms will respond positively if we build muscle and don’t yank our bodies all over the place with binge dieting. And it tells us that we’re tough. Drop your five-pound dumbbells, women—that’s beneath you.

And what’s best about it is that it lets you admire and love what your body can do. I’m stronger, leaner, and not depriving myself these days. But what I’m most grateful for is that it finally led me to be body positive. That I can look at my body or think about my body and say “Hell yeah!” For that, I will always heart this book and its authors.