I've stopped following people on Instagram that make me feel insecure

Contorting my body into the Downward-Facing Dog yoga position, I briefly felt self-conscious. And warm. 

At the front of the yoga studio (thanks to always being late) I thought about the slimmer, more flexible girls behind me – clad in sports bras and short-shorts.

Were they huffing and puffing as much as I was? Struggling with their boobs in their face, like me? Did they worry about what their bum looked like from behind?

Was I the only one dripping with sweat? 

I’d noticed on arrival that I was the biggest woman in the room – but instead of letting it affect my workout, I adjusted my body, wiped my face with my T-shirt, then took it off. Not a single person even batted an eyelid.

Catching my eye in the studio mirror, I smiled at my flexible figure in a sports bra. 

Last year, I wouldn’t even have dreamed of allowing myself to be seen in the gym without my baggy men’s tee on.

But now I feel free. It’s taken me a long time to get here, and I’m proud of myself.

Previously, when I noticed that I was always the biggest in the class, it was compounded by the fact that no one ever looked like me. Not fellow gym goers – or instructors.

Even my Instagram feed was full of slender, athletic women talking of six packs, tiny waists and intense fat burning workouts – it always had been. 

I’d been unhappy with my body for as long as I could remember, and always assumed that comparing my size with these smaller, skinnier, more socially accepted and attractive women would spur me into action.

I believed I could look like them too, if only I tried hard enough.

But, instead of being an inspiration for me to get fit and healthy, it just made me feel awful about my body – thinking myself grotesque, vile. Alien. 

Relentlessly punishing myself for not fitting in, I would binge eat to make myself feel better, then I’d hate myself for being a failure, and start the vicious cycle over, and over again. 

Safe to say it took its toll on my mental health and as it turns out, I’m not the only one to do this, either.

A recent study from the University of Bristol discovered that women who were very unhappy with their bodies spent more time looking at those who were slimmer than them.

After looking at data from nearly 3,000 women, with an average age of between 18 and 25, the study found that young women gazed more frequently, and longer, at those who weighed less.

Researchers called this ‘attentional bias’, and claimed it could even exacerbate feelings of unhappiness and dissatisfaction, risk factors for a number of eating disorders.

For my whole life, I always thought you needed to look a certain way, and be a certain size to exercise. 

I thought of exercise as being for weight loss, not for enjoyment, and that any shred of fat was something to be corrected. That I was ‘wrong’ for not being thin enough.

When I did work up the courage to hit the gym, I focused on cardio-heavy workouts – ones with fat burning in mind. I hated them, but thought it was all I deserved as a bigger woman.

It wasn’t until last month that everything changed.

‘Welcome to body combat!’ a voice told me when I entered the studio with my head down, reflexively pulling my baggy top down over my bum. 

I’d pretty much given up before I even entered the room – hoping for a space at the back, dreading what was to come.

Looking up, I saw that the voice belonged to a plus-sized woman: the instructor. Her body was just like mine – and her demeanour seemed to say god forbid anyone who doubted her like I doubted myself.

The confidence and raw strength oozed from her, and her energy was so infectious. Her body didn’t hold her back – it was her weapon.

The class was difficult, but as well as feeling sore afterwards, I felt like a new woman. I felt capable, worthy. Strong.

I was proud of myself, and my body, for working through the fear.

Since then, I’ve rid my Instagram feed of bodies that are unachievable for me, and have surrounded myself with plus-sized instructors like @mynameisjessamyn (the self-admitted Beyonce of plus-sized yoga) and @sophthickfitness (a curvy ‘self-love PT’) who have proved to me that, yes – you can be both fat and fit.

I’ve swapped attentional bias for intentional self-love. 

Now, I have discovered a newfound level of respect and appreciation for my body, and what it can do. 

I’ve started swimming more frequently, exercising with weights, tried my hand at martial arts, and have settled into a nice yoga routine. Turns out, I’m pretty flexible and have great balance – even if my boobs do end up smothering me whenever I bend over.

There’s some things I still can’t do, which I’m working on – that is everything except for the yoga pose called ‘The Wheel’. 

As my instructor told my class last week to bend over backwards into this impossible shape, I curled up into the child’s pose instead.

The most content and at peace I’d felt in years.

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