Welcome back to the Learning Curve, a monthly column where we unpack the complicated experience of accepting your own body in a world that doesn't seem to want you to. This month, news editor Nicola Dall'Asen reveals that she, like countless others, gained weight during the pandemic — weight gain that saved rather than ruined her body.
It's the stretch marks on my breasts that most catch me off guard. They were there pre-pandemic, but they're darker, bluer now than they've ever been. Devoid of their prior muscle tone, my upper arms hang and wobble more when I raise them. The rolls on the middle of my back are more pronounced. Then there's my stomach, which protrudes farther out than it did before. None of these features are bad, but they are certainly different than they were before March 2020; as I coped with everything happening in the world, I didn't give much thought to my body, which was swaddled by the soft comfort of the oversized hoodie and sweatpants I'd more or less glued myself into.
But I don't want to hide in my stay-at-home get-up anymore. These days I find myself squeezing back into my skinny jeans, leather skirt, or a two-piece swimsuit (all of which are now uncomfortably tight) and being floored by just how much has changed … and that there's no going back to the way things were before COVID-19 ended millions of lives, caused an economic collapse, and brought political turmoil along with it. There's no going back to the person I was before that happened, either. The world is different now. I'm different now — and for the better. I have my pandemic weight gain to thank for that. The 20 or so pounds I put on while self-isolating in 2020 helped me identify underlying mental health concerns I might otherwise have willingly continued to ignore.
Since day one of this wretched thing, there's been a lot of talk about the "quarantine 15," a not-so-cutesy nickname for the weight gain that many people vowed to avoid when they thought this whole remote work thing would last only a month or two. Folks on the internet cracked fatphobic jokes, but weight gain was, indeed, a reality for many of us. People were so fraught over the possibility of getting a little chubbier, they failed to realize that we never should have expected our bodies to remain the same in the first place.
There was nothing to do but work, eat, drink, and sleep, so that's exactly what I did. In my possession, a bottle of cabernet sauvignon never lasted longer than a night or two. Countless delivery people came to place Big Macs on my doorstep while I sat in my room, lit only by the bluish glow of the laptop I was hunched over. With chronic back pain and no open gyms to turn to, I stopped even thinking about exercise, which is how I usually coped with stress. I could sleep an entire weekend and return to "the office" on Monday still exhausted.
My body has looked mostly the same since I was 16, no matter if I was a competitive athlete or a total couch potato. But a horrible year and 20-ish additional pounds later, I wondered if my changing body might have been a reflection of a changing brain. My strict internal clock dissipated as I lost sleep (even though I rarely got out of bed), and my thoughts raced so fast at all times that I couldn't focus on a damn thing. I feared there was a bigger problem bubbling under the surface of my poor diet and lack of exercise, so I said something very out of character for me: "I need help."
In the early spring of this year, I met with a mental health nurse practitioner for a virtual evaluation — my first time visiting any kind of mental health professional. I was diagnosed with anxiety, attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD), and major depressive disorder, all at the same time. Oof. I cried for days at the realization that some of these conditions, at least, had likely always been there; I'd just been using my busy schedule — work events, weeknight dinners with friends, weekend bar crawls — to avoid focusing on the flip-flop between adrenaline and numbness I never wanted to admit to myself that I felt. My instinct about my weight gain was correct, and because of that, I now have access to medication I didn't know I needed that has changed my life positively in ways I can't efficiently explain in a 1,400-word article.
I don't mean to imply that weight gain or fatness in general is a surefire indicator of a mental health disorder — it's not; nor is it a surefire indicator of any health condition in general. "The pandemic has changed our routines in dramatic ways and this has led some to report that their eating and weight changed during this time," explains Evelyn Attia, a board-certified psychiatrist specializing in disordered eating. "There is not one single explanation for these changes, but it is important to consider all of the possibilities, including that mental health issues may be among the contributing factors."
In situations like mine, however, weight gain or loss can, in part, signify something greater. "There are several mental health conditions that can be associated with changes to eating and weight; mood and anxiety disorders are certainly among them," says Attia. "Different individuals may be affected differently, with some finding that they eat more in association with their mental health symptoms and some finding that they eat significantly less."
We were — we still are — experiencing collective trauma. Those of us who are lucky enough to have made it through the past year and a half with our lives have still lost loved ones, jobs, homes, and, in my case anyway, momentarily lost hope that life could ever be good again. Advertisements, social media, and the media at large might suggest otherwise, but when times are as tough as these have been, gaining weight isn't abnormal and certainly isn't the worst thing in the world.
Hell, gaining weight has never been the worst thing in the world; as the Health at Every Size public health initiative recognizes, gaining weight and/or being fat is not a one-to-one indicator of physical health, and it's time we all start seeing things that way. Not only does our societal fear of weight gain bolster systemic weight discrimination, it can distract us from the changes that are happening inside of us while things simultaneously change outside of us. If I had not gained those 20 pounds over I don't even know how much time — surely the most change my body has experienced since puberty — I might never have thought to seek professional help for my mental health and might never have known what it feels like to truly have peace of mind.
If you gained weight during the pandemic, you are not alone, and you have nothing to be ashamed of because being fat isn't inherently a bad thing. But if, like me, you think your mental health might be a factor in your weight gain or loss, Attia recommends seeing a mental health professional for an evaluation, if you have the resources to do so. "The evaluation should help the individual identify the factors that contribute to the eating and/or weight changes," she explains. "These may include eating disorders, other mental health conditions, or more general issues around pandemic-related changes, such as working from home just steps away from one's kitchen."
A few months after my evaluation, I'm re-entering society with my extra 20 pounds and my too-tight pants in tow. Maybe I'll lose that weight one day, and maybe I won't. I don't really care all that much because I'm tending to my brain first, which has improved my quality of life more than a keto lettuce wrap and a treadmill ever could. And I'm coming to accept that my body will continue to change during my life, as it's supposed to. The weight gain my body has gone through most recently is now symbolic of surviving in unprecedented times. If I ever have children, my growing stomach will represent the power within me to create life. When I get older and fine lines or sagging skin start to crop up, I'll get to say it's a sign of wisdom. The only certainty is that I won't look the same forever — that includes my body and its fluctuating weight.
I might be heavier or bigger right now, but what matters most is that I've learned how to listen to my body when it's alerting me to something. My quarantine weight gain was never a failure — it's been my protector all along.
More on body image:
- Breast Cancer Taught Me to Love My Body
- The Power of "Unflattering" Celebrity Photos
- Where Are All the Fat People In Beauty?
Now, we dispel some myths about body hair:
Don't forget to follow Allure on Instagram and Twitter. You can follow Nicola Dall'Asen on Instagram.
