healthmedicinet

This article was written by Hannah McGoldrick and provided by our partners at Zelle.

I’ve been working in the digital world for a few years now, and as a journalist, I know it’s best to avoid reading the comments section.

Usually my articles don’t garner many comments. But when we launched our new Run Outfit of the Day (#RUNootd) series, I read the comments because I was genuinely curious what people thought.

What I read hurt. Instead of remarking on the actual content of the video, people used the video of me modeling one of my favorite running outfits as a virtual punching bag to release their anger (insecurities?). But the anger wasn’t directed at what I was wearing, it was directed at my body.

I had effectively become the target for thin shaming.

“She could use a sandwich.”

“We don’t want to see thin models.”

“Why doesn’t Runner’s World show real runners with real bodies?”

“This girl looks like she weighs 90 pounds.”

“She’s anorexic.”

My answers:

“Thank you, but I already ate lunch.”

“I’m not a model.”

“I’m a real runner, and last time I checked, this is my real body.”

“I don’t weigh 90 pounds, and it’s none of your business how much I weigh.”

“I’m a recovering anorexic.”

I desperately wanted to send these responses back to the Internet bullies who were hounding me but didn’t want to give them the satisfaction because then they win. But since when has calling a woman’s body out, very publicly on social media, been okay? Oh, right. It always has been. But never would I have imagined members of the running community to be so terribly mean.

While I typically have a tough skin, it’s been hard to read these comments and not be affected by it. When I started running, I really did use it as my therapy. I was recovered from my eating disorder for about five years by the time I started, but anyone who has suffered from disordered eating knows it never really leaves you. I was a healthy weight when I started running, and I am a healthy weight now. If I wasn’t, my doctor (who knows my complete medical history) would have something to say about it.

I look the way I look because I run. I lift weights. I cycle. I eat healthy. I get a good amount of sleep. I indulge when I want. I drink wine, eat ice cream, and enjoy a good burger.

When I was anorexic, I couldn’t do any of that. I couldn’t run because I got palpitations. I was forced to give up my passion for ballet because the environment didn’t foster my recovery. My muscles were so weak, I could barely lift a five-pound weight. I didn’t eat. I had a very difficult time sleeping, despite being tired all of the time. I never indulged. Burgers gave me panic attacks.

The Internet lynch mob of thin shamers doesn’t know any of this. They see me in a Runner’s World video or on our Instagram account and call me “anorexic” as if it’s nothing. But it’s something to me.

So before you make an off-handed comment about someone on social media, think about the person you’re looking at. Because they are a person. And they don’t deserve whatever comment you choose to make on your lunch break while flipping through Facebook.

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If you need help in figuring out how to approach someone who may be struggling with an eating disorder, visit the NEDA website.

If you yourself are battling an eating disorder or having thoughts about starvation, bingeing or purging, please call the NEDA helpline. It is anonymous and toll-free, and you can get a lot of information 1(800)-931-2237.