(This is Patricia’s story, told in her own words. Her story of years spent obsessing over food, her weight and how she looked, and how lifting weights helped free her from her unhealthy obsessions.)

“My journey with body image began, like most girls’, in high school. I was a runner, but genetics, more than anything, helped me keep a lean frame. I have a distinct memory of changing in the locker room before track practice, and a friend of mine speaking of wanting to rid herself of her inner thigh fat.

I had never noticed inner thigh fat. I had never contemplated inner thigh fat.

Those thoughts became dormant in college and in my twenties, when I was simply more concerned with other things. Then in my thirties, I made it a goal to weigh 123 pounds and maintain it for at least a month. I’m not sure why I settled on this number, but this is where the secret obsession began. This number became my holy grail. If I could only eat just a little less. If I could only do a little more cardio.

Eventually, I reached it through a very restrictive diet and hours and hours of cardio. It felt amazing, I’m not going to lie. It felt so amazing, that I thought, well, if 123 feels this good, how would 115 feel? 110? 105? Mind you, I’m 5’7” tall.

At my lowest, I got to 111 lbs. It felt fantastic. And I was miserable for it. Hangry doesn’t begin to describe it. In hindsight, I can understand that what I was doing was indicative of disordered eating. I was obsessed with food. If I couldn’t eat it, I could think about it. I could watch hours of Instagram food videos. It was my hidden obsession.

Cardio was the only form of exercise I knew. I would sometimes engage in cardio for 3+ hours every day. In my mind, weightlifting was not exercise; furthermore, it was off-limits to women. And it was especially not for women who wanted to be skinny. This misconception, I now understand, was fueled by thirty years of being fed marketing from the fitness industry. Weightlifting is not sexy. It is not set to music. It cannot be easily sold in a home kit. It does not lend itself to a 30-day quick guide.

In addition to my food Instagram videos, I added in before/after photos of weight loss to my obsession. I would see before and after photos of women who said, “Here I am at 120 lbs. (looking flabby) and here I am at 140 lbs. (looking amazing).” I didn’t know it at the time, but it was a display of body recomposition. I didn’t believe it. I thought that these photos were lies. And I only wanted to see before/afters of weight loss. The lower the number on the scale and the ability to see definition in my abs at rest were my only two markers of success. Every woman I saw in person, I would compare myself to her. This competition in my head made me crazy and unhealthy and miserable.

Not a single crumb of bread, grain of rice, or noodle of pasta entered my home. This diet, as most people including me know, was not sustainable. I was either “very good” or “very bad.” And the very bad sought anything and everything within reach. “I’m going to treat myself” would quickly turn into eating an entire tray of Oreos or fistfuls of Sour Patch Straws. When I would open the floodgates of sugar, my body couldn’t say no.

In February of 2020, I had a revelation. What if I joined the program my fiancé had constantly extolled (and I had constantly denounced) for the past six months? I was watching him get stronger and more confident in real time, while also eating ice cream, deli sandwiches, and chicken tender baskets without much thought. Wouldn’t that be nice? I had never known a life like that. If I ever did eat a chicken tender (and I did), my first thoughts were usually along the lines of, “How much cardio do I need to add tomorrow to work this off?”

My weightlifting journey began in late February of 2020, with all the hope and ambition in the world. I planned on sticking with it for six months. I told Steve I was willing to lift weights one time per week, and I would do my cardio the rest of the time. Ha! My goals were to get stronger, like the way I looked, and become untethered from the scale. Steve knew that the key to achieving these goals was through building muscle, but was compassionate and patient to allow me to learn that on my own.

Well, late February 2020 turned to March 2020. You know where this is going. I actually only trained in my regular gym one time before it closed.

From March-July 2020, I begrudgingly did four strength workouts per week. More so because what else did I have to do? The gym was closed, along with my beloved cardio. I borrowed equipment from my school’s weight room and busied myself with learning overhead press, dumbbell row, and Bulgarian split squats. I pushed up on the floor. I pulled up behind the door. As much as I hated it all, I needed it.

Very quickly, I started eating. Joy was hard to come by in those early pandemic days. Food and drink became a source of happiness in a very dark world. By May, the scale hit 130 lbs. I dreaded that moment because that number had always signaled, “You have gotten fat” in my head. I feared for what that would mean for my psyche. It meant nothing. I kept eating, and kept lifting. And I stopped weighing myself.

Once I was able to go back to the gym, I began to enjoy the workouts. I saw gains on gains on gains. Something I had never seen throughout all my years of cardio and undernourishing.

I was literally eating more on a regular basis than I ever had. I was doing less cardio than I ever had. And I got a completely new body. For the first time in my life, I have a butt. My thighs look toned without flexing. Shadows catch on my shoulder, revealing biceps and triceps.

Those Instagram posts showing recomposition weren’t wrong. I have become one of them.

That is not to say that going through the program was easy. Far from it. I tried to quit at least four times. I had the emails composed. But Steve has a way with persuasion. He knew what was best for me. He listened to my countless complaints. He offered suggestions. He is a wealth of knowledge but also patient and experienced enough to know exactly when to give it out.

I am now eight months post-graduation from the program. The habits I learned are ingrained in my life. I don’t make a conscious decision to eat all my protein or go to the gym. My body just knows exactly what to do. That’s not to say I have become a strict disciplinarian regarding lifting, nor have I given up cardio. In fact, now that I’m not obsessing over it, I enjoy it even more.

Weight training is built for long-term success. In order to be successful, I have learned to rest my body. I enjoy the lift, but I also enjoy the rest. It may not come in a fancy package with a gimmicky name, but lifting heavy weights has served as the key to an entirely new world for me. A world in which I can love my body.”