A few days ago, I knew deep within it was time to remove the Transformation Art Exhibit from my website.
It had been online for sixteen years.
(For anyone unfamiliar with it, in 2008, I started an online art exhibit using my body as a blank canvas and food as an artistic medium. Every month, I posted updates, including my changing biometrics and pictures of my body transformation.)
I decided leaving it online was perpetuating the influences of diet culture.
So, I removed it.
Dieting, according to the Oxford dictionary, is “restricting oneself to small amounts or special kinds of food in order to lose weight.”
Dieting is a normal way many people interact with food in developed countries.
In the twenty-first century, many “non-diets” have been cleverly rebranded for modern times: lifestyle changes, weight loss challenges, intermittent fasting, detoxes, juice cleanses, boot camps, resets, and the like. In some instances, the “weight loss” emphasis has been changed to “lower body mass index” (lower BMI).
Diet culture is the set of beliefs that promote weight loss and thinness as the ultimate ideal of beauty, virtue, health, success, and happiness. Proponents of it even indoctrinate children at young ages to have an irrational fear of, and aversion to fat.
The telltale signs of this preoccupation with body size are either fat shaming or its opposite, weight loss praise. Fat shaming is the feeling of humiliation, embarrassment, guilt, and even distress over one’s weight that creates delusional fatphobia. This obsession fuels body dissatisfaction, insecurities, and eventually, isolation. Weight loss praise is the congratulatory adulation and admiration of someone who’s lost a noticeable amount of weight; it’s a form of celebrity hero-worship in diet culture.
The victims of this systemic brainwashing base their value and self-worth on body size. Those controlled by it view themselves and others through the lens of weight gains and losses.
In diet culture, weight stigma is real; it stereotypes individuals in larger bodies as undesirable, lazy, undisciplined, unhealthy, immoral, unspiritual, unintelligent, and irresponsible. . .not to mention the verbal and emotional abuse and discrimination that goes along with it. (In the late 1800’s, a book advised governments to arrest and imprison overweight people!) www.skterrwellness.com/history-of-dieting/
Over time, dieters lose critical thinking skills. They no longer know how to think for themselves and become disconnected from their body’s innate cues. They habitually learn to ignore hunger—and fullness.
Those trapped in diet culture, including innocent children, have been brainwashed to believe they can’t trust their bodies to self-regulate food. Therefore, they depend on others to dictate food requirements: what, when, and how much to eat; and even how much to weigh. (Today, there are even apps that tell dieters when and how much to eat. Technology has replaced hunger and fullness cues, which has only fueled the pathological dysregulation of food.)
This lack of autonomy runs deep: phrases such as, “I’m allowed to. . .or I’m not supposed to” are commonly used when referring to food choices. One step over the line spells disaster.
The worst part is individuals trapped in diet culture believe they’re an undisciplined moral failure. Compulsive eating behaviors are viewed as gluttonous character flaws; or there’s something pathologically wrong with them . . . when in reality, habitual overeating is an innate survival mechanism to live. . .instigated by chronic undereating!
In 2008, I decided to change my strategy concerning food and weight loss.
By this time, I was forty-seven-years-old and had been dieting since first grade; followed by rebounding weight gains (yo-yo weight cycling).
Instead of restricting foods to lose weight, I decided to experiment with eating foods that would fully nourish and satiate my body.
I turned the experiment into an art exhibit. My goal was to discover if food could be an artistic medium: just as a potter uses clay, a painter uses paint, or a sculpture uses metals; could food be an artistic medium to change my declining health? Could it improve my blood pressure, my biometrics and labs? How would my body respond to consuming an unlimited variety of nutrients instead of continually depriving it?
For the first time in my life, my focus was on eating instead of not eating/undereating.
Each day, my goal was to sit down and eat three, nourishing and satisfying meals at regular intervals. No skipping them. No eating less in order to weigh less the next morning—or by the end of the week. In fact, I only weighed myself once a month. (More than a decade later, I charted those numbers on a graph and discovered there were some months I barely lost any weight at all.)
I ate those three meals, no matter what. I filled my plate with an abundance of colorful foods: fresh succulent melons, strawberries, Romaine lettuce, steamed broccoli, edamame beans, avocadoes, mushrooms, onions, snap peas, cherry tomatoes, bean dips, vegetable-bean soups, walnuts, almonds, flax and chia seeds, peaches, quinoa, fresh mixed greens, oatmeal, plums, oranges, blueberries, bananas, lentil stews, and the like.
I allowed my body to dictate how much to eat. I didn’t weigh or measure amounts, except for a generous handful of nuts. Filling up on a wide variety of foods, without restrictions, stopped the “food noise”--the constant thinking about food--and worrying about how it may impact my weight.
I just thoroughly enjoyed the pleasure of eating for the first time in my life; the pure delight of nourishing my body instead of depriving it. I ate without guilt or obsessive micromanagement of amounts.
As a result, my dangerously high blood pressure dropped to normal levels. I no longer had pre-diabetes or high cholesterol; an addiction to processed foods stopped; and most importantly, the nagging mental chatter to constantly be losing weight ended. Fatphobia and the preoccupation with weighing myself no longer controlled me. The inner turmoil, angst, and shame disappeared.
My body responded beautifully: my newfound health became the natural byproduct of eating nourishing meals. I permitted my body to recover and heal naturally; I didn’t rush it. . .and it thrived.
Eventually, I lost one hundred pounds and stabilized at that weight.
I had the joy and energy to pursue working out—not because I had to, but because I wanted to--and as a result, I gained new muscles throughout my body.
I felt great!
However, after several months of this freedom, it all changed.
Suddenly, I was thrust into the limelight of being a “weight loss success story.”
Without realizing it at the time, I became trapped in diet culture once again.
My focus shifted from eating to nourish my body to fear-based eating and severely restricting calories in order to reach an arbitrary “ideal weight”--a number ten pounds less than what I weighed.
The internal and external pressure to be “as thin as possible without becoming too thin” was intense.
Shrinking my body to a smaller size became my focus, my obsession. . . for more than the next decade. Rules to restrict food became a part of my mealtimes.
My picture graced the cover of a popular women’s magazine. I knew the editor would be publishing my weight, so I drank only water for several days in order to reach that ideal weight. I was still unsuccessful in achieving it, which created intense anxiety.
Millions watched me on a popular daytime television talk show. Once again, I skipped meals for several days beforehand. Moments before walking onto the stage flooded with spotlights, a medical intern brought a scale into the green room and weighed me fully clothed and mic’d up. I was relieved when the number was close to the “ideal weight” I’d been working so hard to achieve.
While the show host announced my weight to the world, the audience erupted with applause--and the piercing shrills of whistles--as they saw me in comparison to my “before” picture. The host hugged me and exclaimed that I looked thirty years younger as compared to the before picture. (It’s a miracle I didn’t pass out on that stage!)
As a “weight loss success story,” the avalanche of praise and attention was intoxicating; I became addicted to the flattery and standing ovations.
Admirers called me a “rock star”—not knowing I was also becoming a poster child for disordered eating.
Over time, I gradually began to feel objectified and exploited.
For instance, after one of the public events, a group of us who’d lost a significant amount of weight lined a hallway to have our pictures taken. Once again, I’d fasted in order to weigh less and have the flattest abs possible. At one point, I became dizzy and leaned against a wall in order to prevent myself from falling. A professional photographer took pictures of each of us individually: front view, side view, back view. In that moment, it felt as if we were cattle in a livestock judging contest at the county fair.
What started as an art exhibit to get my health back, turned into a Miss America pageant, and I was one of the contestants. Health was no longer my focus—that ship had sailed.
I became a target of public scrutiny, which fueled body dysmorphia; being overly concerned about flaws in my appearance. . .namely, my protruding belly. I habitually skipped meals in order to have a concave abdomen—only to rebound and gain weight. As a result, I gradually developed camera phobia: the fear of having my picture taken. I feared criticism of my fluctuating body size.
I knew I was once again deeply entrenched in diet culture and resulting disordered eating and yo-yo weight cycling, but I didn’t know what to do.
So, I did nothing.
No one knew the distress I was in—I was becoming dangerously ill—yet, it was a secretive, dark tunnel of shame. I didn’t even tell my therapist.
More than a decade later, it took being hospitalized with a severe case of Lyme meningitis from a tick bite for me to wake up.
Then, soon afterwards, my husband and I had the privilege of hosting a guest from a third world country in our home for several weeks. She had never been on a diet.
I observed how she made nourishing meals from the simplest of foods available to her. She thoroughly enjoyed sitting down to eat each meal and stopped when full. Her motto was “a full belly is a happy heart.”
She had the ability to self-regulate food. Diet culture hadn’t robbed her of that precious gift. She didn’t see food through the lens of restrictions and restraints in order to lose weight or achieve a smaller body.
Needless to say, her visit changed me.
I jumped off the weight loss conveyor belt, and shifted my focus to nourishing my body again. Today, I’m thoroughly enjoying eating once more—and I’m no longer fixated on reaching an ideal weight or having the flattest abs possible.
At my first public appearance after losing those one hundred pounds, a marketing producer coached me before speaking on live television: “Weight loss sells; health doesn’t.”
Thanks to America’s preoccupation with ideal body size and shape, and unreasonable fear-mongering from health and wellness communities; the U.S. weight loss industry grew to an unprecedented $90 billion dollars in 2023. (www.marketwatch.com) And, may I add, most of these products and services need remarkable success stories in order to sell them.
As I’ve shared bits of my story online this past year, complete strangers have reached out to me; everyone from those who’ve regained all of their lost weight back to those who’ve felt exploited, betrayed, and disillusioned by diet culture.
I’m not the only one who’s been ensnared by it. The stories are heartbreaking; and I feel compelled with a solemn sense of responsibility to bring awareness to this public health concern; and to advocate for not only those individuals caught in the torment of diet culture. . .but on behalf of children and teens who are also being inundated with fatphobic messaging. . .especially by well-meaning parents, teachers, pediatricians, coaches, peers, and social media influencers.
It especially blows my mind that many healthcare practitioners prey upon their patients’ vulnerable insecurities and fragile states of health to push intentional weight loss efforts. In their quest for optimizing wellness, they inadvertently promote diet culture values. These same experts seem to be unaware of the disordered eating behaviors—chronic overeating/binge eating, misuse of laxatives, purging, chronic fasting, over exercising, and yo-yo weight cycling--that develop when one focuses on achieving a smaller body. This chaotic relationship with food is normalized. Providers, who are caught up in appearance bias (meaning one’s size determines health), overlook the damage that chronic dieting does to the body.
And most likely, these same practitioners are oblivious to the fact that individuals who partake in extreme food restrictions are eighteen times more likely to develop eating disorders than those who don’t. (NEDA.org)
It makes perfect sense why children exposed to diet culture are 242 times more likely to develop eating disorders than Type 2 diabetes. (Unapologetic Eating by Melissa Rumsey)
I find it especially disturbing that physicians can be overly concerned—and even critical—about children developing Type 2 diabetes; but they have absolutely no problem using anti-fat messaging that fuels disordered eating.
Unfortunately, eating disorders are socially acceptable and promoted in this country. . .even though they have the second highest mortality rate of any mental illness—next to opioid addiction deaths. Someone dies as a direct result of an eating disorder every fifty-two minutes. (Eating Disorders Coalition)
Let that sink in.
Yet, many physicians overlook them.
Perhaps it’s time to recognize the role diet culture—and the suffocating pressure to be ultra thin--has played in the so-called obesity epidemic in America.
Individuals living in larger bodies deserve to find the support they need; not fat-shaming and weight stigma that so many have experienced. Regardless of one’s size, everyone is worthy of compassionate and respectful care.
Health is defined as a state of complete physical, mental, and social well-being.
There’s so much more to health than a number on a scale.
That’s why I’ve removed the Transformation Art Exhibit from my website.
“Some telltale signs of diet culture influence:
· Publicly sharing before/after pictures
· Publicly sharing ‘what I eat in a day’ pictures/videos; critiquing and comparing what others eat
· Daily weight checking/mirror checking
· Complimenting weight loss, adulation/celebrity hero-worship of success stories. . .or commenting/gossiping about someone’s weight gain (or fat shaming them)
· Detailed tracking of every morsel of food
· Life, including social media postings, evolves around food, fitness, food talk, food amounts, food tracking, numbers on the scale, mirrors, selfies, workouts, body size
And the worst aspect of diet culture is the condescending disapproval of what others eat or don’t eat—labeling others’ food choices as bad or poisonous.
There truly is something much worse than eating junk food. . . and that’s condemning those who do.
”
Emily Boller, artist, mother, and author of Starved to Obesity, is certified in whole plant nutrition and on a mission to combine practical, no-nonsense tips—with easy to understand science—in order to help anyone escape the addictive grip of the Standard American Diet. And now, she’s on a mission to bring awareness to the suffocating and potentially deadly trap of diet culture as well.