When I was a teenager with anorexia, I thought it was a life sentence. I truly believed sayings like “every woman has an eating disorder” and couldn’t picture a future where calories didn’t make me anxious. So, when I tell you this next part, know that I’m saying it with a kind of pride: in November 2024, I was diagnosed with “very high” cholesterol.
After years of restricting food, I spent my twenties believing every meal should be as delicious as possible. Last year, that meant melting white chocolate into my morning oatmeal, then grabbing a white chocolate matcha with cream, followed by a cheese and egg sandwich on brioche, cake, fried chicken and chips—not to mention bread and butter before dinner and dessert afterward. In short, I was blowing past my daily saturated fat limit and enjoying every bite. To me, “treats” weren’t something I had to earn.
I went up a couple of dress sizes. I wouldn’t say I was happy about it, but I didn’t care enough to change my eating habits or start exercising.
What’s mentally healthy isn’t always physically healthy—and maybe I wasn’t as mentally healthy as I thought. My recovery had become just as performative as my disorder. Where I once felt superior for starving, I soon felt superior for never saying no to ice cream or ordering salad without a side of fries. I eyed healthy eaters with suspicion. I may not have believed every woman had an eating disorder anymore, but I wrongly assumed every woman who exercised did.
It’s hard to shake that mindset, which is entirely defensive—hence why I framed my high cholesterol diagnosis as a boast. The truth is, those results scared me. My family has a history of strokes and heart attacks, and even though I don’t have a pension, I do want to live a long life.
I was first diagnosed with high cholesterol in 2023 during a health check with the Our Future Health program. I made half-hearted attempts to swap brownies for flapjacks, but it wasn’t until my numbers jumped to “very high” a year later that I accepted I needed to change my diet and start exercising.
For the past six months, I’ve been eating a healthier, lower saturated fat diet and have brought my total cholesterol down to “normal” levels (though just barely—I still have work to do). This time has made me reflect a lot on our attitudes toward food and health. I feel good mentally now, but frustrated by how we’re all trapped by contradictory and oversimplified health messages.
To start, my doctor barely reacted when I was diagnosed with high cholesterol in 2023. I doubt he would have been so casual if I’d been overweight. We’re told that being fat is unhealthy, but there are people heavier than me with much better cholesterol levels. I’m sure my doctor would have been stricter if I were “fat,” which is absurd—the number on the scale should matter less than the numbers in my blood test. Yet no one asked much about my diet.
I’m also angry that this happened because I was taught—and women are still taught—to focus on calories instead of nutrition. Many people think “bad” food is high in calories, but some high-calorie foods are very healthy, and some low-calorie foods are packed with saturated fat or lack nutrients. Once I recovered from my eating disorder, I saw no reason to hold back—after all, the world had told me that…The most frightening outcome of eating what you wanted used to be gaining weight, and I took pride in no longer being afraid of that. Of course, I still knew that too much saturated fat, salt, and sugar are unhealthy, but our culture insists that “being fat is unhealthy” rather than “being unhealthy is unhealthy.” The world adores a thin woman who can devour a burger loaded with extra bacon. Can you really blame me for absorbing that message?
What angers me most is how society assumes that wanting to be healthier must mean wanting to lose weight. Here’s the hard truth: while full recovery is possible, anorexia never truly goes away—it’s always waiting for a chance to return. Earlier this year, I downloaded an app to track my saturated fat intake, and of course, it also counted calories. At first, I wished I could turn that feature off, but almost laughably fast, I became obsessed. I barely ate for a week until I confessed to my husband, deleted the app, and broke free—something I want everyone to know is surprisingly possible if you speak up.
Time and again, I’m reminded that society seems designed to pull me back toward my disorder. On a recent holiday, I averaged 30,000 steps a day because I love exploring new places on foot. While I wasn’t thinking about calories burned, my phone was—it cheerfully notified me that I was burning more than usual. Why tell me that? Don’t. Why assume I should care?
After a “very high” diagnosis, the nurse handed me a sheet banning “fancy breads.” It didn’t seem to occur to anyone to consider my history with an eating disorder. The irony is that trying to prevent a heart attack could have given me one—if I’d let anorexia take over again in the name of “health,” I would have become unhealthier than ever.
The rise of “skinny” injections reinforces this mindset like never before. Weight loss is still seen as the ultimate goal, even if it means people lose their hair, suffer painful stomach issues, miss out on essential nutrients, or reduce the effectiveness of their birth control—not to mention the risk of vision loss. Once again, weight is treated as the most important measure of health, even when chasing weight loss can make people seriously unwell.
But in the end, it’s not just society I’m angry with—I’ve had to face myself, too. After anorexia, it wasn’t healthy for my eating habits to remain such a big part of my identity. I hated asking friends to swap pizza for sushi after my diagnosis, and I cringed saying no to birthday cake at a pub. I especially detested it when a friend copied my salad order with, “Oh, I should be good too!” Part of me still defensively believes that eating well and exercising are inherently disordered, and a mean little voice wants to whisper, “Get a life!” at people who eat five fruits and vegetables a day.
No matter how I started this, that’s not a healthy attitude. It’s painful to admit, but I actually enjoy exercising now. And though it goes against my beliefs to say it, treats truly are more enjoyable when you don’t have them every hour.
I’m a little sad that my diagnosis means I once again have to go through life thinking aboBut if I’m honest, maybe I never stopped thinking about what I eat, even when I believed I was completely free. I’m still caught in a strange middle ground where—sadly—I can feel a brief surge of happiness if my trousers feel looser, yet at the same time, I can fill a loyalty card from a candy shop in just two weeks. I don’t have all the answers. But if there’s one thing I wish I could change, it’s my cholesterol. And if there’s a second, it’s our attitudes toward diet and health.
Amelia Tait is a freelance features writer.
In the UK, Beat can be reached at 0808-801-0677. In the US, help is available at nationaleatingdisorders.org or by calling ANAD’s eating disorders helpline at 800-375-7767. In Australia, contact the Butterfly Foundation at 1800 33 4673. Other international helplines can be found at Eating Disorder Hope.
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Frequently Asked Questions
Of course Here is a list of FAQs based on the topic designed to be helpful and sensitive to someone with a history of an eating disorder
Beginner Definition Questions
1 Why would someone with a past eating disorder ever go on a diet Isnt that dangerous
It can be risky which is why it should only be done under strict medical supervision In this case it was a doctors direct advice for a specific physical health reason not for weight loss or appearance
2 Whats the difference between a healthfocused diet and a restrictive diet
A restrictive diet is about cutting out foods to lose weight often leading to fear and guilt A healthfocused diet is about adding nourishing foods to support your bodys function with flexibility and without moral judgment about food
3 Im scared to change my eating habits because of my past Where do I even start
Start by working with a team you trust a doctor a therapist specializing in eating disorders and a registered dietitian Their guidance is the most important first step to ensure your mental and physical safety
Benefits Mindset Shifts
4 What was the biggest mindset change that helped you
Shifting the goal from weight loss to health gain I stopped asking Is this food good or bad and started asking Will this food help my body do what I need it to do today
5 Did focusing on health actually improve your physical health
Yes The diet was recommended to address specific issues like energy levels digestion or blood work By focusing on nourishment those health markers improved which was the real goal
6 How did this affect your relationship with food
It helped me rebuild a peaceful relationship Food became fuel and medicine not an enemy or a source of anxiety I learned to see it as a tool for supporting my body not controlling it
Common Problems Challenges
7 Werent you terrified of triggering old habits
Absolutely The fear was always there Thats why having a professional safety net was nonnegotiable I had to be brutally honest with my therapist about any urges to restrict or fall back into old patterns
8 What did you do when you felt a diet mentality creeping back in
I had a plan I would pause
