We Need To Talk About Orthorexia…

Kirsti Buick
Aug 9, 2017 · 3 min read
PHOTO: Henrique-Felix/Unsplash

Scrolling through Facebook and my Instagram feed, I see examples of orthorexia proudly posted, worn like some sort of weird #fitspo badge of honour.

An eating disorder, applauded.

I know… because I used to be one of those people.

If you’ve read about the beginnings of my health and fitness journey (click here if you want to), you’ll know that this strange new world was life-changing for me.

After years of crash dieting and yo-yo weight loss and gain, I’d finally figured out what my body wanted and needed to be the strongest, healthiest, fittest version of myself — or so I thought.

After a few months of following Kayla Itsines’ BBG programme, I was finally brave enough to dabble in other fitness classes, weight lifting, spinning — and I was totally addicted.

And then it all got a bit weird…

Seeing my body change was out of this world — and I wanted more. Having previously (loosely) followed Kayla’s healthy, sensible HELP eating guide, I decided I wanted to “get healthier” (read: skinnier).

Since I couldn’t really exercise more than I already was — six days a week, sometimes twice a day — I decided I’d have to change my diet.

‘Calories out *must* exceed calories in right?’

Calories out *must* exceed calories in right? I started meticulously tracking every single thing that went into my mouth.

I realised I was eating about 1 600 calories a day. Surely that was too much? Maybe just a little less… I started decreasing my intake. 1500… 1200… no more than 1000 — only ‘clean’ foods, of course — and those stubborn last few kgs slipped off.

I had done it! I’d finally mastered my body. I was going to train and calorie count myself skinny come hell or high water! Eventually, I found the perfect formula. I was losing about a kg a week from my already slim frame.

‘When I hit my goal weight I wasn’t proud — I felt unfinished’

My goal weight had been 52 kg — already pretty low, even for my 1,6 m height. But when I hit that, I wasn’t proud — I felt unfinished. I wanted more. Perhaps I could get to 49 kg..? Give myself a bit of a buffer..?

Hello, orthorexia!

I stopped eating anything my family or friends cooked for me. Had they used a reasonable portion of olive oil in that healthy dish they were making especially to accommodate me? Packet sauce? Non-complex carbs? WTF!

Eating out became a no-go too — it made me anxious. How could I possibly know what kind of cheese was in that salad? How could I accurately track the calories if I couldn’t take my trusty kitchen scale with me and immediately input the data into MyFitnessPal?

I remember once nearly crying when I went out for dinner with my family. The waitress had ignored my request for “dressing on the side” of my teeny tiny salad.

I rudely told her to take it back and get the chef to make a new one. “And don’t just rinse it off,” I said snarkily, “I’ll know.”

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Kirsti Buick

Written by

Little Gypsy Health Geek || Cape Town || Blogger www.itsmekirsti.com || Online editor @YOUmagazineSA || Health nut || Wannabe yogi || BBG girl || Foodie || Geek

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