I Developed an Unhealthy Obsession with Exercise After My Assault
By: Sarai Perez
Tags: Lifestyle, Women, Mental Health, Beauty, Feminism

His words and the assault only confirmed all the horrible things I thought about myself.

I was always self-conscious of my body, even before I met him. I grew up with skinny little legs and bony thighs. And after I grew up, filled out, and gained weight everywhere else, I still had what the girls called me at school — chicken legs. And when I met my abuser, the things I’d heard all my life about my flat butt and skinny legs seemed to be confirmed.

Here was this man I really liked, and he’s telling me that everything bad I ever thought about my body was true.

After I left this job, I hired a personal trainer. I’d like to say it was for personal reasons but deep down I knew I was determined to change my body because of my abuser.

I became obsessed with changing my image. I got on a diet, I trained seven days a week, and I never skipped a leg day. After seeing what my body was capable of, I trained even harder; I ate even cleaner and the muscles continued to grow.

After a couple of months, I filled out my dresses and skirts like a dream. For the first time in my life, I flaunted my legs.

No one could tell me that my butt was small now. No one could tell me that I didn’t fill out my skirts.

No one will ever look at my body the way he did.

I was working out compulsively, sometimes twice a day, and I skipped hanging out with friends or family so I could go to the gym. A few times, my friends gently suggested that I was taking this exercise thing a bit too far. But I ignored them. I hated my body when I wasn’t working out. And for that, I had to push myself as hard as I could.

And then life happened.

I got very sick and couldn’t work out. A week later there was a death in my family. I became depressed after attending two consecutive funerals and I barely ate. I lost about twenty pounds during all of this which meant I lost the muscle I had worked so hard for.

I felt weak and unattractive. Once again, I heard my abuser’s voice in my head when I looked at my body in the mirror. I heard his comments about how small my butt was, about how my jeans never fit me right, about how if I worked out, I’d be better looking. And I believed it all over again.

When I returned to meet my trainer after a month of zero exercise and minimal nourishment, he said to me playfully when I started stretching, “Oh man, we got a lot of work to do.”

And I cried right there in front of him.

I couldn’t hold back. My trainer apologized immediately, again and again. He didn’t mean to offend me, he said. And I know he didn’t.

But the anxiety that came over me when I realized that someone else noticed my muscle loss sent me into a panic.

The thought that someone else may think about my body as my abuser once did was devastating to me.

I confided in my personal trainer and told him that I had been working out after our sessions together. I told him I’d passed out in the locker room a couple of times. I told him how horrible I felt when I skipped a gym day.

And my personal trainer did the most unexpected but best thing for my health.

He told me we were going to stop seeing each other for sessions temporarily and instead, he wanted me to journal about my mental health on the days where I wasn’t working out. He advised me to go spend time with friends and family.

I fought back, saying if he didn’t want to work out with me, I would just hire another trainer.

I thought this would shock my trainer, but it didn’t. We were client/trainer more than we were friends, and I never imagined that he would be okay with me hiring a new trainer instead of him.

But to my surprise, he said okay.

He said he couldn’t continue to train me knowing that I was pushing myself to the point of harm. He said he was worried about me.

And I believed him. So, I skipped the gym for a day, then two days turned into two weeks. I found a therapist who helped me develop healthy habits. I recited self love mantras in the mirror every morning. Over a period of months, I slowly began to allow myself to live without obsessing over the gym. It has taken years, but I’ve learned to love my body as it is.

To this day, I’m a dedicated gym-goer.

I love the gym. But even after all these years, I still train my legs more than any other part of my body. And it’s not for any Kardashian reason, it’s because I’m worried that if I don’t train my legs hard enough, someone will see my body how my abuser saw my body.

I’d like to believe that my healthy lifestyle is because of me — because I want to be healthy, look good, and feel good. But sometimes when I look in the mirror and overly criticize the size of my legs and butt, I wonder what kind of damage this man left on my self-image. Although I don’t dare give him the credit or power over my body after all these years, sometimes, I wonder.