I've lost a little weight, and it's messed with my brain

This feels like a vulnerable post to write.

Partly because it’s something I’m actively grappling with; and partly because it shows that, even after years of unlearning diet culture, I don’t have everything neatly figured out all the time.

I’m sharing it anyway, because I think that matters. Not having it all together doesn’t mean we’ve failed. It means we’re human - and still doing the work.

When weight changes aren’t intentional, but still matter

Over the last few months, I’ve lost a small amount of weight. I wasn’t trying to. It’s likely a side effect of working a bit less and moving a bit more. But intentional or not, it’s been enough to really mess with my head - particularly my relationship with food, exercise, and my body.

When I quit dieting in 2018, I gained some weight. And then something unfamiliar (and honestly, quite freeing) happened: my body settled. After more than a decade of yo-yo dieting, my size stayed remarkably stable for years.

That stability brought relief I hadn’t fully appreciated at the time.

No regular wardrobe overhauls.

No constant fear of regain.

No cycle of “being good” followed by guilt and shame.

So this recent change (small as it is) has been the first real test of my relationship with food and movement in a long time.

The thoughts I thought I’d outgrown

What’s surprised me is how quickly old thoughts resurfaced. Thoughts I genuinely believed I’d left behind.

Because despite years of unlearning body ideals, despite deeply believing that people (myself included) can be fat and happy, fat and healthy - part of my brain still lights up at the idea of being smaller.

And that’s uncomfortable to admit.

From listening to my body to second-guessing it

Those “good” feelings don’t arrive alone. They bring a whole bunch of harder ones with them.

Suddenly, food and movement choices that usually felt fairly neutral start to feel fragile. Instead of “what does my body need?”, the question becomes, “will this undo the weight loss?” Every decision feels heavier more loaded.

Rather than listening to my body, I catch myself trying to hold onto something, as if it’s scarce or at risk of disappearing. And when that pressure builds, it backfires: more chocolate, more food noise, more guilt about not exercising “enough”.

Worrying what others will think

There’s also the social layer. I worry about what others might be thinking, and what they’ll think if my body gets bigger again (because spoiler alert: bodies fluctuate, and that’s normal).

Most of my friends and family know better than to praise my weight loss (in fact, it’s so subtle that many of them probably haven’t noticed). But the fear is still there. Will I be judged if my body changes again? Will I be seen differently?

Why clothes suddenly feel harder again

And then there’s clothes.

I don’t want (and can’t afford) to replace a wardrobe just because things feel a bit looser. Every new purchase comes with calculations about how long it’ll fit, and what might happen next. That mental load had quietly disappeared when my weight was stable. Now it’s back.

The quiet power weight loss still holds

What this has really reminded me of is how much power weight loss still holds, even when we’re not actively pursuing it.

Even when we don’t consciously buy into diet culture.

Even when weight loss isn’t the goal.

The experience of weight loss alone can disrupt our relationship with food, movement, and our bodies.

It’s also made me reflect on how far I’ve come. And how no amount of personal work makes us immune to slipping back towards familiar thought patterns.

The difference now is how I respond.

This doesn’t feel like a full relapse into diet culture. I haven’t jumped back into dieting. My eating and movement haven’t changed dramatically. And while this is uncomfortable, my response is a world away from what it would have been ten years ago.

What’s helping (even though it’s not perfect)

So what am I doing about it?

I’m still figuring that out - I definitely don’t have it cracked. But a few things are helping:

Noticing, without reacting: When unhelpful thoughts show up, I’m trying to notice them with curiosity rather than immediately acting on them.

Using “bridging thoughts”: Instead of aiming for perfection or positivity, I offer myself something more realistic, like: “I can see where this thought is coming from - and I’m working on not letting it control me.”

Keeping my routines steady: The way I’ve been eating and moving over the last year has genuinely felt good. When decisions feel difficult, I ask: What would I have done six months ago, when this felt easier? I let my past self lead, because she had less noise to wade through.

I want to be able to experience body changes without it feeling so hard. I want my body getting bigger or smaller to feel… neutral. I believe that’s possible - but it’s not simple, and it’s not linear.

In the meantime, I hope this shows that I'm a health coach who is on the journey with you, just a few steps ahead. If you'd like to chat about how I can help, check out my health coaching page.