It’s that time again. We’re juicing, we’re counting calories, we’re cutting sugar, and we’re doing those last-minute extra reps at the gym.
Yep – it’s almost #SB2k17 and we’re jetting off somewhere tropical in hopes of authenticating our fake tans and debuting those attempted abs as we rock those crop tops.
If you aren’t on "The Cabo Diet,” you either: were, know someone who is, know someone who was, have heard of it, or (at the very least and at risk of social suicide) have educated yourself on the all-too-familiar trend amongst 20-somethings. While there are many versions and varying degrees of said Cabo Diet, they typically embody the essence of Emily Blunt’s prep for Paris in "The Devil Wears Prada"
As someone who has now survived four consecutive Cabo Diet seasons and four years at USC (the world's prettiest – and skinniest – campus), I’d like to give you a piece of advice:
Don't do it.And if you're already doing it: STOP. Your undeniable value runs deep through your perfect and non-chiseled core, and you’re worth more than the lousy results of any crazy, crash diet.
While The Cabo Diet seems like a necessary and somewhat (read: not at all) feasible way to trim down and shimmy into that bikini and those cutoffs next week, the behavioral precedent you’re creating might be more damaging than you think.
Your '20s are transformative. Whether you know it or not, you’re creating habits, validating appropriate behaviors, and building the framework that will give shape to your life (pardon the pun). Whether you know it or not, you’re setting a precedent for the way you will value yourself – and be valued – in the coming years and decades. Whether you know it or not, your actions today have intense rewards and/or consequences in your future.
As a former Division I athlete, I spent years analyzing (and agonizing over) my body. When I was competing, I was concerned with the way my body performed. I didn’t care how it looked; I cared how it worked. Once I stopped competing, that focus shifted from performance to appearance. And that former focus turned into an obsession.
I've hated my body – or at least parts of it – for as long as I can remember. When I was in high school, an upperclassman named Jonathan told me that my shape was great, but that I had fat arms. This was the first time I realized that body image and self-acceptance weren’t a zero-sum game. I didn’t have to love every piece of me; I could love parts, be indifferent to parts, and hate parts. His comment gave me permission to deem pieces of myself “not good enough” and to stand in the mirror sectionalizing my body and my self-worth.
Not a day has gone by in the last six years that I haven’t thought about Jonathan, his comment, or my (still) uncut arms. It’s created insecurity so deep, that it’s become a piece of my identity. It’s the reason I consciously opt for sleeves whenever I get the chance, and why I throw punches at a bag at least five days a week. I can’t tell you what entitled him to make comments about a body that wasn’t his own, but I can tell you that – despite my round-the-clock efforts – it’s something I still haven’t forgotten.
But that doesn’t mean I haven’t tried.
Loving your body – just as it is – is hard. It's hard to sport that bikini when the insecurities whisper negativities and when the imperfections highlight inadequacies and encourage comparisons.
But let me tell you something: even trying to love your body is worth it. While working at and maintaining a positive relationship with my body and with food has hands down been my most challenging and humbling effort to date – and while I don’t always succeed – it's also been the most rewarding.
Because little by little, I start to see myself less as a shape trying to fit into society's mold, and more as a unique and imperfect mold, fighting for a society that accepts my shape. Fat arms and all.
Bottom line: it's OK to be concerned with your health, to tone up that physique, to monitor your food intake, and to perfect that exercise regimen. But do it all with your self-worth as a fact, not as a variable contingent on the execution of the former.
Your value and worth are far more complex than the carbs you don’t allow yourself to consume.
No matter what steps you take to prep for spring break, please don’t forget that.
