Every Version of Us Deserves Dignity

This illustration is personal. In it, I am taking myself to the LCA Mirror Room. I am standing in front of different versions of myself. Different ages. Different seasons. Different bodies.

Not to decide which version of me was better. But to look. To remember. To reflect on what I have lived through, what different seasons asked of me, and where I find myself today.

Because reflection doesn't end when we reach a goal. We continue to meet ourselves.

Sometimes, we return to the Mirror Room simply to stay in relationship with who we have been, who we are, and who we are becoming. Every version of us deserves dignity. And that goes much deeper than our bodies.

There are parts and versions of ourselves we may struggle to accept. But dignity is not something we earn once we become the version of ourselves we prefer. It belongs to us along the way.

For me, one of the places where I have experienced this most personally is in my relationship with weight.

What Weight Loss Has Taught Me

I have lost between 20 and 30 kilograms at three different times in my life. So when I talk about weight loss, I don't talk about it as someone standing on the outside looking in.

I know what it took for me to lose weight successfully. The discipline. The structure. The consistency. The decisions I had to make over and over again. I know the excitement of seeing progress and feeling stronger.

But I also know the other side. The plateaus. The days when motivation disappears. The setbacks. The restarting.

And I know what it is like to be treated differently because you are heavier.

When People Think Your Body Tells Them Who You Are

People can look at someone in a larger body and believe they already know something about who they are.

That you lack discipline. That you don't take care of yourself. That you simply like food too much.

That if you really wanted to lose weight, you would just do it.

But they don't know your story.

They don't know your relationship with food, your history with weight, what is happening in your life or what may be happening in your body.

Because weight isn't always as simple as: “What are you eating?”

Stress, sleep, hormones, health conditions, medication and genetics can all play a role. And even when you are intentionally trying to lose weight, progress isn't always linear.

You can reach plateaus. You can go through periods where it feels like you are doing everything right and your body isn't responding the way you expected.

That can leave you feeling helpless.

Especially when people look at the outcome they can see, your body, and assume they know what you have or haven't been doing.

They don't.

And there is another part of weight stigma that deserves to be named:

The sense of entitlement people can feel towards someone else's body.

As though seeing your body gives them permission to comment on it. To make jokes about it. To ridicule you. To point out that you have gained weight. To tell you what you should or shouldn't eat. To shame you and call it motivation.

Your body being visible does not make it public property.

Someone having an opinion about your weight does not mean they are entitled to give it to you.

And wanting someone to be healthier does not give anyone permission to humiliate them.

Shame is not the price someone should have to pay for existing in a body you think should be different.

When Support Doesn't Meet You Where You Are

Weight stigma can also show up in the places you enter because you are trying to make a change.

I've experienced that too.

Trainers saying:

“It's good that someone like you is in the gym.”

Someone like me?

Being judged when you cannot perform an exercise exactly as expected. Receiving comments about whether your breasts are too large to perform a movement. Or being given an exercise without anyone considering how your body may affect the way you can currently perform it.

Take something as ordinary as a squat.

You may not be able to squat as deeply as someone else. Body size, proportions, mobility, strength and balance can all influence the movement. That doesn't mean you aren't trying hard enough.

It is important that the movement meets your body where it is today. You might need a different stance, additional support, a smaller range of motion or a different variation while you build strength and mobility. As your abilities change, the movement can change with you.

Adaptation is not failure. It is part of good support. Good support notices. It asks questions. It adjusts.

There is a world of difference between meeting someone where they are and making them feel inadequate for not already being somewhere else.

That should not be part of the price you have to pay for wanting support.

Weight Loss Is More Than a Physical Journey

There are professionals who can help with nutrition, exercise and the medical aspects of weight management.

At LCA, our role is different. We want to support the person who is going through the journey.

Because knowing what to eat doesn't necessarily help you understand why you binged after a difficult week.

Having a training schedule doesn't tell you what to do with the shame you feel after not exercising for three weeks.

Knowing your plan doesn't make it easier when you step on the scale and the number hasn't changed.

Weight loss can bring up a lot. Frustration. Shame. Disappointment. Pride. Fear. Resistance. Hope.

You might lose momentum. Fall back into old patterns. Binge. Avoid the gym because you feel uncomfortable in your body. Life might become overwhelming and taking care of yourself becomes harder. You might regain some of the weight you worked so hard to lose.

And sometimes the hardest part isn't knowing what you were supposed to do.

It is figuring out how to return.

You Are Allowed to Build Your Way Back

There can be a lot of all-or-nothing thinking around weight loss.

You're either on track or you've fallen off. You're succeeding or you've failed.

But returning doesn't have to mean going from struggling to doing everything perfectly again overnight.

You are allowed to build your way back.

One meal. One walk. One workout. One routine at a time.

You can start by returning to one or two things that previously helped you feel grounded and build from there.

And this is where reflection becomes important.

We can ask:

“What happened?”

“What was going on when things became difficult?”

“What patterns or triggers can I recognise?”

“What did I need in that moment?”

But understanding what happened is only part of the work.

We can also ask:

“What do I need in order to return from here?”

“What feels manageable right now?”

“What am I ready to pick up again?”

“What can wait?”

“What kind of structure or accountability would help me?”

Because understanding why you fell out of rhythm matters, but learning how to find your way back matters too.

You don't have to punish yourself back into consistency. You don't have to compensate for a binge by becoming excessively restrictive. And you don't have to turn a setback into evidence that you are incapable of changing.

Sometimes returning is gradual. Sometimes the first step is simply deciding: “I'm not giving up on myself here.”

And then we build from there.

There Is Room for This Journey at LCA

At LCA, we are not here to police your food or shame you into exercising.

We can help you create structure and accountability around the goals you have chosen for yourself, but our support goes beyond whether you followed your plan.

There is room for what the journey is bringing up in you. The mental and emotional struggles. The moments you feel proud. The moments you feel defeated. The patterns you keep returning to. The comments from other people that stay with you. The way you speak to yourself after a setback. The fear of having to start again.

Instead of asking:

“Why can't you just stick to it?”

We get curious.

“What happened?”

“What do you need?”

“What is working?”

“What needs to change?”

“And how do we move forward from where you are today?”

You can come to LCA at any weight.

You don't have to prove that you are trying hard enough.

You don't have to defend your body before we take you seriously.

And you don't have to become smaller before you deserve to be met with kindness, dignity and respect.

Every Version of Us Deserves Dignity

When I take myself to the Mirror Room and look at these different versions of me, I don't see a hierarchy.

The smaller version of me is not more worthy than the larger one.

The version who was successfully losing weight is not more deserving of kindness than the version who was struggling.

They are all me. Different seasons. Different bodies. Different experiences.

The same human dignity.

What Is in Your Mirror Room?

Your mirrors may hold something entirely different.

You may recognise the version of yourself who was struggling.

The version who was grieving.

The version who was barely functioning.

The version who struggled to believe they were enough.

The version who was learning to live with a diagnosis.

The version who kept reaching for something they knew was hurting them.

The version who struggled with anger.

The version who stayed too long.

The version who kept going back.

The version who lost themselves trying to be what others needed.

The version who kept repeating a pattern they didn't know how to break.

The version who made choices they regret.

The version who caused harm.

The version who looks back now and wishes they had done things differently.

They deserve dignity too.

Not because everything they did was right.

Dignity does not take away responsibility. We can acknowledge harm, make changes, repair what we can and choose differently.

But we do not have to dehumanise ourselves in order to change.

We can take responsibility without deciding we are worthless.

We can confront the things we struggle with without reducing ourselves to them.

We can regret what we have done without making shame our permanent home.

We can grow without despising who we were.

Dignity doesn't have to wait until we become someone we find easier to love.

That is why we return to the Mirror Room.

Not to decide which version of ourselves was worthy.

But to remember that they all were.