The media is weight obsessed.

Torrents of thin-spiration’s flood our consumerist lives, and we are drenched in lies.

Not only does it tell us that we are meant to be size 32 to be valued homo sapiens, but it also says that we don’t have to work to get there.

10 Days to a Bikini Body. 6 Easy Ways to lose that Belly. 5 Quick Tricks that Make You Thin.
 
Many of us are sick of the deceit, and so a wave of counter-fabrication has been trending just as hard. The funny pictures of women drinking wine and congratulating themselves on overcoming the evil tyrannical Thin-dustry.

You don’t need to exercise. You don’t need to be in shape. Life is short. Eat the Everything.
 
I feel that we are throwing the baby out with the bathwater.
 
No matter where I look these days, it seems that I am being torn between two camps of thought and both of them are just as bad as each other.
 
Thin-camp says that you have to be thin at all costs. The only stamp of approval granted is when you can fit into the same jeans as your 12 year old niece.

The women in this camp range from those who starve their bodies of nutrients to those who binge and purge. From those whose idea of regular exercise is reaching for a bottle of toxic diet pills to those who reach for anything labelled sugar and fat free.

Electric shock your way to a six-pack.
 
Fat-camp says that there is absolutely nothing wrong with being the biggest you you can be. Embrace your excess because it is natural and beautiful.

The people in this camp would rather do anything than give their ticker a good old cardio vascular work out. They fill their bodies with toxins of a different nature. 

Isn’t pizza a basic food group?
 
The truth of the matter is that you can never tell what is going on inside someone’s body just by looking at their circumference.

That skinny girl could be living from sugar high to sugar high, spiking her glycemic index on an hourly basis and a mere 3 slices of red velvet cake away from developing full blown diabetes.

Or she could be starving herself, thereby suffering from constant fatigue, terrible circulation and extreme acne.
 
The fat girl could be battling a hormonal imbalance where she gains weight from eating celery sticks.

She could be sliding towards a mild respiratory shutdown from lack of exercise.

Or she could be developing long-term knee and back problems thanks to constant weight strain and underdeveloped supporting muscles.
 
Some people are just born super skinny or super sized, but the rest of us usually abuse our bodies in some way or another and hide behind words like Detox and I deserve a treat.
 
I’ve lived in both camps, and I have learnt that even though we might not care what our BMI is, our bodies sure do.

Weight, no matter what end of the scale, does not equal health.
 
We need to stop lying to ourselves.

We are willing to do anything to get an outward result, no matter what damage we do along the way.

We would rather deprive our bodies of much needed nutrients than live with an extra 2 centimeters round our waistlines.

We eat anything we feel like, feeding our guilt rather than working to stabilize our out-of-control blood sugar.

We would rather fill our systems with toxic potions or herbal concoctions than wake up an hour early to get a solid hear-rate raising gym session in.
 
If only we each had a ‘black box’ to assess the crash-site that is our lifestyles.
 
We need to start taking care of our bodies – these highly developed functioning bio-systems that are our physical homes for our entire lives. We need to renovate rather than constantly break down.
 
We need to do research and eat to support them with all the nutrients they need rather than restrict them blindly in the name of beauty.

We need to move them more, setting a better foundation at the core of our muscle fibers and mobilize our joints to sustain us deep into old age.

We need to learn about moderation and portion sizes rather than chasing one instant pleasure after another.
 
I may not achieve an Elle McPherson body by eating well-balanced meals and exercising 6 times a week, but guess what? I am not Elle McPherson. I am Pamela Simpson.

The only camp I need to be in is the one where I am working towards my own healthy, strong body to love, train and enjoy for the rest of my days.

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