Chronic Illness And Body Image

By Antonia at Unremarkable Me

Before the Shift: The Swimmer

In my mid-20s, I swam daily—fit, mobile, and feeling like I had a handle on my body. I didn’t realise how temporary that version of health would be.

Back when my spine didn’t click like a haunted metronome, swimming was my sanctuary. Low-impact, rhythmic, and just enough movement to keep my body from staging a mutiny. I was an athletic size 10, and while I wasn’t strutting down catwalks, I felt at home in my skin.

That skin doesn’t feel quite so familiar now.

By the time I hit 35, I was a size 20. The swimming stopped when my body said no more. My joints turned into rebellious gremlins, my brainstem started freelancing for a horror movie (cheers, Chiari), and my pain levels demanded a new full-time job: survival.

And yet, the one thing people zeroed in on—without a shred of context—was my weight.

Let’s get one thing straight: I didn’t stop moving because I lost motivation. I stopped because sometimes standing up feels like my body’s reenacting a GCSE physics lesson on gravity. And when basic movement becomes an Olympic event, and food becomes a game of “Will This Cause a Flare?”, of course your body changes.

When Body Image Collides with Chronic Illness

There’s this silent contract society wrote without consulting us:You're supposed to be either thin or ill—never both.

Gain weight? You’re lazy.Lose weight? “Ooh, you must be feeling better!”(Narrator: She wasn’t.)

The worst part? You start believing it. I’ve spent years wrestling with the feeling that my body’s shape is a failure—when in reality, it’s a physical record of everything I’ve survived.

One GP appointment still haunts me. I was in agony, clearly unwell, asking about MRI referrals for Chiari symptoms. The response?“Have you tried Slimming World?”Not neurology. Not pain management. Just a group where people clap when you eat less cheese.

Honestly, it’s hard to advocate for yourself when your body is judged faster than your blood work.

The Real Weight of the Matter

What worries me now isn’t how I look—it’s what this body needs to function and stay out of the hospital.

With EDS and Chiari, weight gain can complicate everything: spinal pressure, POTS, fatigue.But so can losing too much: muscle wastage, nutritional deficiencies, weakened joints.

And there’s no simple formula when your body flat-out refuses to follow the rules:

• Exercise? Not when my neck’s threatening to exit stage left.

• Meal prep? Not if I can’t stand for more than 10 minutes.

• “Just eat clean”? Not when my immune system reacts to broccoli like it’s anthrax.

As Dr. Asher Larmie, founder of The Fat Doctor UK, brilliantly puts it:

“Health is not a number. We are not responsible for justifying our bodies to the medical system or to anyone else.”

Clothes That Don’t Fit—And So Much More

There’s a specific, stomach-sinking moment when your favourite clothes stop fitting—not just physically, but emotionally.

I once cried over a dress I couldn’t zip up and got stuck in. Not because it was expensive. Because it was the last link to a version of me who hadn’t yet been dismantled by diagnosis.

But I’ve also found moments of quiet triumph—like embracing new clothes that actually fit this version of me. Like the emerald green dress that hugged me instead of punishing me.

Reframing the Narrative

Here I am now .Different size. Different strength. Still here. Still standing. Still showing up—sometimes glam, sometimes exhausted, always real.

Clothes don’t fix identity. But they can help you find a version of yourself who deserves softness.

Here are a few brands that get it:

• Snag Tights – Inclusive, comfy, sensory-friendly tights that don’t dig in

• Universal Standard – Basics that move with you, not against you

• BILLY Footwear – Adaptive shoes that are stylish and make sense

  
  

The Medical Weight We Carry

This is my body now—managing EDS, Chiari, and more.

I wear a brace not for fashion—but for function.I don’t owe anyone an explanation for how I survive.

As I age, weight is no longer about image—it’s about health. My joints need stability. My spine needs less pressure. My nervous system needs peace.

And none of that fits into a BMI chart.

You Are Not the Number on the Chart

If your body has changed—if it’s heavier, softer, more scarred or less mobile than it used to be—I see you.If you’ve been shamed in appointments, side-eyed in changing rooms, or ignored because of your shape—I’ve been you.

You are not broken.You are not your diagnosis.You are not the last pair of jeans you fit into before your world turned upside down.

You are still here.Still standing.Still remarkable.

So Where Does That Leave Us?

It leaves us right here—in bodies that hurt and heal and change and adapt. In mirrors we don’t always recognise. In clothes we didn’t expect to wear. In a medical system that still asks about calories before compassion.

But it also leaves us with something powerful:A story worth telling.

Because even when our bodies feel unfamiliar—even when weight gain steals our confidence, our function, or our sense of self—we are still worthy of care. Of community. Of being taken seriously.

So here’s to the bodies that have carried us, changed on us, and saved us—sometimes all at once.Here’s to survival in every shape it takes.And here’s to the conversation that says:You’re not alone. You never were.

Resources & Support

• The Body Is Not an Apology – Radical self-love, healing justice, and community

• The Fat Doctor Podcast – Honest, body-positive healthcare discussion with Dr. Asher Larmie

• EDS Support UK: Nutrition & Lifestyle – Tips for living well with EDS and similar conditions

• Body Respect by Lindo Bacon & Lucy Aphramor – Evidence-based challenge to weight stigma in healthcare

Need someone to talk to?The Unremarkable Me chatroom, The Lantern’s Rest, is always open.Come sit with us. Tea is optional. Honesty is not.