My body is the least interesting thing about me.

Or so I tell myself.

During my pregnancies, I’ve been anxious about things I’ve mentioned before — my mental health, the baby’s wellbeing, and the worst-case scenarios that my brain conjures. But there’s been another very present fear — one that I’m almost too ashamed to type.

What if I gain weight and can’t lose it?

It’s no surprise that this is something mothers worry about in a society where fatness is treated like a curse. I felt guilt, though, because I should’ve known better. Body neutrality! Weight gain is morally neutral. And yet.

Note: I mention numbers related to weight loss and gain in the next paragraph. Feel free to skip it if that’s triggering for you.

I gained 15 pounds in the first trimester of my first pregnancy and struggled to make sense of it after the miscarriage. During my second pregnancy, I was so sick that I didn’t gain much weight. After giving birth, I was hospitalized for postpartum psychosis. I refused to eat in the hospital because I was convinced they were poisoning me. When I was discharged, my shorts were falling off of me.

It’s embarrassing to say aloud, but part of me wanted to view it as a silver lining. That I was the same size as I was before I got pregnant. I wanted my trauma to have brought something good — although it devastates me that I’ve been conditioned to view it as a positive, no matter the cost. But a few weeks after I was discharged from the hospital, my psychiatrist changed my medication regimen. I started a high dose of an antipsychotic that left me constantly hungry and went up a clothing size in three weeks.

I’m sharing this because I value transparency. I try to be body neutral, but I’m sometimes painfully aware of my body. You know what they say about old habits.

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I’ve learned that there are socially justifiable reasons for weight gain. Pregnancy, childbirth, the trauma of psychosis — I’ve only gotten a couple insensitive comments in three years. Even the well-meaning relatives who have commented on my body in the past seem to accept why it has changed.

But I think about how my body has changed because I’m enjoying life — saying yes to the second glass of wine, ordering the pasta without checking the calorie count, getting dessert without walking it off later. It’s seen as a lack of willpower. Gaining weight because of psych meds and medical crises is excused; this is not. (For what it’s worth, this is my experience — I know that plenty of people have been shamed for weight gain, no matter the cause.)

Is my body the least interesting thing about me? Some days, I can say it confidently. Others, it consumes a lot of my time and thoughts. I was talking to a friend about how many people are talking about Ozempic and other weight loss drugs. I half-jokingly added the caveat that she couldn’t judge me if I tried it one day, too. No matter how much I unlearn, diet culture is inescapable. I don’t have all the answers, but I’m trying my best — and for me, sharing these thoughts with you is a big step.