A friend asked me the other day, “Did you ever play sports as a kid?”

I laughed and said, “No, never.”

She looked genuinely surprised. “Why not?”

Growing up, I was a bigger kid, and I thought of being healthy as something only athletes could achieve — something exclusive to the fit kids who ran track and played basketball after school.

I wasn’t the strongest runner, and every sport I knew involved conditioning, laps or sprints that would inevitably leave me as the last one on the track. The thought of pushing myself and still falling behind made me hate sports.

Back then, to me, being healthy meant looking a certain way. The idea was entangled with body image, social validation and the versions of wellness promoted by Instagram influencers with abs. This feedback festered, coming to define a healthy body as something you were either born with or that you had to sacrifice a part of yourself to achieve.

These beliefs impacted my perception of fitness and showed up in how I viewed food. I ate from an emotional place — if I was sad, food made me feel better, and if I was happy, I’d celebrate by eating. 

“If something looked good, I ate it. I wasn’t moving my body much, and I definitely wasn’t drinking enough water. I didn’t really understand how my eating habits affected my energy, and I wasn’t giving myself the kind of healthy fuel that actually made movement feel doable.”

When I arrived in London for my study abroad semester, I started to feel different. I walked everywhere, sometimes several miles a day, and ate fresher food. The portions were smaller, the ingredients were simpler and I began to notice how light and energized I felt. For the first time, I started listening to my body and paying attention to how the proper combination of a sustainable diet and movement lifted my mood.

My perspective shift solidified when I fainted in the middle of the street during a class field trip. It was a hypoglycemic episode that sent me to the hospital. My family was thousands of miles away while the nurses worked to boost my blood sugar. That moment was terrifying, but it showed me how fragile my health really was. I realized that even though I was eating healthier foods and moving more, I wasn’t pacing myself. My sudden lifestyle shift overwhelmed my body; I was moving too much without replenishing myself and not paying attention to the signs my body was giving me. This experience showed me that truly taking care of your health isn’t just about doing the right things — it’s about practicing healthy habits in moderation and with awareness.

When I came back to New York City, I decided I didn’t want to chase a number on the scale; I wanted my motivation to be rooted in caring for myself, not controlling myself.

Building an exercise routine grounded in consistency without pressure or toxic thoughts allowed me to re-evaluate my outlook on going to the gym — not because I have to, but because it gives me a chance to feel alive in my own body. 

Today, my relationship with fitness is something I tend to and value, ensuring that healthy habits don’t bring unnecessary stress into my life. I drink more water and eat what fuels me, unlearning the emotional eating patterns that once brought me comfort.

I just turned 21, and I didn’t start taking my health seriously until the beginning of this year. Not because I didn’t love myself before, but because I didn’t understand how to turn that appreciation into action. Everyone’s body is different, and learning to listen to yours is the most important part of genuine wellness.