During my younger years, I filled countless journals with my thoughts, aspirations, and feelings. These little notebooks served as my sanctuary for self-reflection and setting intentions. Just a year ago, I stumbled upon a box of those journals hidden in my closet and decided to revisit them.
What I discovered shattered my heart into pieces. As tears streamed down my face, I read entry after entry from my youth that fixated on weight loss. I meticulously recorded everything I consumed, and if I dared to enjoy a meal during the weekend, I promised myself to “get back on track” come Monday. The Weight Watchers point system appeared throughout these pages, accompanied by harsh self-criticism every time I strayed from my dieting goals.
For over 15 years, I made losing weight my primary New Year’s resolution. Every January, I would restrict my eating and engage in intense workouts, hoping to shed pounds until I felt satisfied. Yet, satisfaction never arrived—not once.
As December 31 rolled around, my resolution was always the same: to lose as much weight as possible. Here’s the kicker: during all this time spent chasing weight loss, I was already inhabiting a naturally slim body. I grappled with an eating disorder, an addiction to diet pills, and crippling body dysmorphia, all fueled by the messages I consumed from magazines, television, and the conversations of adults around me.
The prevailing narrative was clear: society expects us to strive for thinness, equating it with health, beauty, worth, and success. The New Year seemed like the perfect opportunity to launch our weight loss journeys, or for many, to resume dieting.
The harsh reality is that 95% of diets fail. The weight loss industry thrives on this cycle of failure, banking on clients to regain weight so they can return as lifelong customers. Recent cultural shifts are helping more individuals recognize that constant food monitoring can lead to disordered eating.
A Brief History of New Year’s Resolutions
Let’s take a quick history lesson on New Year’s resolutions. The Babylonians, over 4,000 years ago, were the first to document such promises. During their 12-day festival, they would crown a new king or reaffirm loyalty to an existing one, making resolutions to pay off debts and return borrowed items to gain favor with the gods. If they succeeded, they’d receive blessings; if not, they faced divine retribution.
So, what does this have to do with weight loss? The answer is: nothing. Early resolutions from other cultures were rooted in religious practices, often involving guilt and remorse for past actions—much like many of us feel after indulging during the holidays, leading to a desire to lose weight as penance.
The truth is, we owe our bodies no apologies. They have supported us, fought for us, and cared for us even when we struggle to love them back. Diet culture has created a disconnect, making it hard to appreciate our bodies for what they are. Research increasingly shows that health is not determined by size.
In the last decade, the Federal Trade Commission has taken action against numerous companies making dubious weight loss claims. Even Weight Watchers has shifted its marketing strategy to ensure lifelong membership, which requires hitting a “target weight” and maintaining it for six weeks—essentially turning weight loss into a never-ending contest.
As for the weight loss industry? It raked in approximately $72 billion last year. Let’s call out this nonsense. No matter what we’ve been conditioned to believe, there’s no need to prioritize dieting in our New Year’s resolutions.
I’ve stopped fighting with myself over weight loss for powerful reasons. Releasing the pressure to constantly shed pounds has allowed me to heal from a lifelong cycle of body shame. This shift has opened up space in my life for joy, presence with loved ones, mental health pursuits, and genuine goals that matter to me. I refuse to get back on the diet culture treadmill.
I’ve also abandoned New Year’s resolutions entirely. The pressure for a “fresh start” is overwhelming and ultimately unhelpful. Instead, I focus on self-love, embracing my body with kindness, having fun, and progressing on my trauma recovery journey. I don’t need January 1 to start these practices.
As you wrap up this year, I encourage you to give yourself a break. Enjoy that pie, let loose with laughter, and consider setting goals unrelated to weight loss. Or simply don’t aim for anything at all—both are perfectly acceptable. If you’re feeling adventurous, join me in rejecting the multi-billion dollar industry that profits off our resolutions.
For more insights on this topic, check out this article that delves into the pressures surrounding weight loss and self-acceptance. Additionally, Intracervical Insemination offers valuable resources for those navigating parenting journeys. If you’re looking for guidance on pregnancy, March of Dimes is an excellent resource.
In summary, redefining our approach to New Year’s resolutions can free us from the harmful cycle of dieting and self-criticism. Embrace your body, focus on self-love, and choose goals that nourish your spirit rather than diminish it.