The Star on Your Belly: What Somatic Experiencing Taught Me About Weight Loss

What if your body has been trying to help you belong?

This weekend, in a Somatic Experiencing training, my instructor brought up a Dr. Seuss book I hadn't thought about in years.

The Sneetches.

If you haven't read or don't remember the story, there are Sneetches with stars on their bellies and Sneetches without stars.

And the ones with stars are better.

Or at least, that's what everyone has decided.

What struck me this time wasn't just the story.

It was their bodies.

The Sneetches with stars stand tall. They're puffed up and proud. They take up space.

The ones without stars look smaller. Their posture is collapsed and they hang back.

They don't just think they're less than.

They feel less than.

And that's when something clicked for me.

The Star Is the Problem

In the story, along comes a man with a machine who tells the Sneetches without stars:

I can fix this for you.

He can put a star on their bellies.

So they line up. They pay him. And suddenly everyone has stars.

Except now the original star-bellied Sneetches don't feel special anymore.

So the man offers another solution.

He can take the stars OFF.

And around and around they go.

Stars on.

Stars off.

Stars on.

Stars off.

Meanwhile, the man with the machine is making a shit ton of money.

Sitting in that training, I thought:

Oh my gosh. This is related to what I do.

This is the weight-loss industry.

And I don't want to be part of it.

But also...

How do I change it?

Because it's not just the weight-loss industry.

It's the beauty industry.

The anti-aging industry.

And increasingly, I think we're seeing pieces of this in the menopause industry too.

(How did menopause seriously become an entire industry????)

First, we're taught that there is something wrong with our bodies.

Then someone sells us the solution.

Lose the weight.

Flatten your stomach.

Get rid of the wrinkles.

Fix your hormones.

Buy the supplement.

Follow THIS program.

It's the ONLY one that works.

And suddenly we're spending enormous amounts of energy trying to get our bodies into the category that means:

I'm enough.

I belong.

I'm acceptable.

What Are We Really Asking Weight Loss to Give Us?

Before I go any further, I want to be clear about something.

I don't think there's anything wrong with wanting to lose weight.

Menopause is real.

We need more research and support for women as we age.

I believe in helping women care for their health, build strength, nourish themselves, feel better in their bodies, and yes, lose weight if that's something they want.

But my Somatic Experiencing training has made me interested in a much deeper question:

What have we been asking weight loss to give us?

Because I realized something about myself this weekend.

In my life, my desire to be thinner has never really been about the number on the scale.

Underneath it was something much more vulnerable.

A fear that I wasn't good enough.

A fear that I didn't fit in.

A deep need to hide.

And a belief that if I looked the right way, behaved the right way, said the right things, and took up the right amount of space...

then I would belong.

And that isn't just a thought.

It's something we learn in our bodies.

And for me, it was a big part of what drove my pain and fatigue.

The Social Trauma We Don't Always See

Especially as women, we learn so many rules about what it means to be acceptable.

Don't be difficult.

Don't be too loud.

Don't be too emotional.

Don't be dramatic.

Don't be angry or you're a bitch.

Say yes or you're selfish.

Take care of everyone else first.

Be pretty, but don't try too hard or it's vain.

Be thin, but don't be obsessed with your body.

Age, but somehow don't look like you're aging.

Age, but don't become too visible.

Don't take up too much space.

Don't have too many needs.

Don't make other people uncomfortable.

We receive these messages over and over until they can become something deeper than beliefs.

They become the way our brains and bodies organize themselves in the world.

We make ourselves smaller.

We hold our breath.

We swallow anger.

We override a no.

We hide our grief.

We smile when we're uncomfortable.

We disconnect from hunger, fullness, exhaustion, and desire.

And eventually, we may not even realize we're doing it.

We just know that something feels wrong.

The Exhaustion of Trying to Have the Star

Here's another piece of the Sneetches story that really struck me.

It takes a lot of energy to keep a star on your belly.

But it also takes a lot of energy to desperately try to get one.

If you're thin and you're working hard to maintain that identity—to make sure you don't lose your place in the "good" category...

Or if you're in a larger body and you're working just as hard to change yourself so you can finally get there... when we look at the physiology, your bodies may be fighting a very similar battle.

One is fighting to keep the star.

The other is fighting to get the star.

And both are organizing their lives around the belief that the star means:

I'm enough.

I belong.

I'm acceptable.

It takes so much mental, emotional, and physical energy.

And this is why I don't think the answer is simply to tell women to love their bodies.

Because if your entire nervous system has learned that belonging depends on how you look, saying "I love my body" isn't going to change what you feel.

You can intellectually believe that your body is worthy while still feeling shame when you walk into a room.

You can tell yourself you're beautiful or say "thank you" after a compliment while holding your breath when someone looks at you.

You can know that your weight doesn't determine your worth while still spending an enormous amount of mental energy thinking about food, exercise, clothing, aging, and how you compare to other women.

The body has to experience something different.

This Is Where Somatic Work Comes In

This is one of the reasons I have become so passionate about bringing somatic work into my approach to weight loss.

Somatic work asks us to pay attention to the experience happening inside the body.

What happens to your breathing when you compare yourself to another woman?

What happens to your posture?

Do you collapse?

Do you puff up?

Do you hold your stomach in?

Do you feel the urge to hide?

What happens when you say no?

What happens when you feel angry?

What happens when you eat something you have labeled "bad"?

What happens when you look in the mirror?

What happens when you put on clothes that don't fit the way you want them to?

These aren't just thoughts.

They're experiences.

And experiences can change.

The Pain-Free Weight Loss Method

This is the foundation of the Pain-Free Weight Loss Method.

My approach isn't about pretending weight doesn't matter, and it isn't about telling you to just love your body exactly as it is.

You can want to lose weight.

You can want to feel stronger.

You can want your clothes to fit differently.

You can want to improve your health.

And you can do all of that without making your body the enemy.

Stop making food about weight loss.

This one goes against a lot of traditional weight-loss advice.

Instead of tracking every little thing you eat just to determine whether you're "good" or "bad," I want you to become curious about your inner world.

Because food serves a lot of different purposes.

Sometimes we eat for nourishment.

Sometimes we eat for energy.

And sometimes we use food to change how we feel.

And that last one is much bigger than "stress eating."

Maybe you're lonely.

Maybe you're overwhelmed at work.

Maybe you're frustrated with your kids.

Maybe you're angry at your partner.

Maybe you're bored.

Maybe you're exhausted and trying to push through.

Maybe you're trying desperately not to feel something.

Instead of judging yourself for eating, ask:

What was happening inside me before I reached for this food?

And then:

How does this food actually make me feel?

Not:

Will this make me gain weight? or Is this food good or bad?

But:

What happens in my body when I eat it?

Five chocolate chip cookies might feel wonderful in the moment, and maybe sometimes you decide they're worth it.

But if you notice that you feel energized for a little while and then crash hard afterward, that's information.

You don't need shame to change your behavior.

You need awareness.

Stop punishing yourself with exercise.

So many women I've worked with have learned to associate exercise with punishment.

I need to work this off.

I ate too much, so I have to exercise.

I hate my body, so I have to go to the gym.

I have to burn these calories.

No wonder your nervous system doesn't want to do it.

The thought of exercise can create an immediate sense of dread.

But movement can be something completely different.

It can be a way of caring for yourself.

A way to build strength.

A way to get outside.

A way to regulate stress.

A way to reconnect with your body.

And when movement is appropriate for your body, it can feel really good.

The question becomes:

How can I move in a way that helps my body feel better instead of making my body pay for what I ate?

That's a very different relationship with exercise.

Notice where you're disconnecting from yourself.

This might be the most important part.

Because sometimes weight loss becomes a way of avoiding something much deeper:

the vulnerability of being fully yourself. This is the deeper level of body image.

Instead of looking for connection, we start looking around the room and asking:

Am I thinner than her?

Do I look as good as she does?

What is she eating?

Why does she look like that and I look like this?

What should I be wearing?

How do I compare?

You can feel this happen in your body.

Your posture changes.

Your breathing changes.

You become hyperaware of yourself.

You start monitoring.

Comparing.

Judging.

Hiding.

Maybe you're scrolling Instagram and suddenly feel envious of another woman's body.

Maybe you're at a party and notice what every other woman is eating.

Maybe you spend an hour trying on clothes because you don't feel comfortable in your own body.

The problem isn't necessarily the clothes.

It's the feeling of being uncomfortable being you.

Remember that you are a human being, not a body.

This distinction has become incredibly important to me.

Your body is not an object that exists for other people to evaluate.

You are a human being who has a body.

Not a body who happens to have a spirit.

Not a body that needs to earn approval.

Not a body that needs to be the right size before you are allowed to participate in your life.

A human being.

With feelings.

Needs.

Desires.

Boundaries.

Relationships.

Grief.

Joy.

Anger.

Fear.

And a body that is constantly communicating with you.

When we begin to see ourselves this way, something changes.

We can still care about our health.

We can still make changes.

We can still lose weight.

But we're no longer standing outside of ourselves, judging our body like an object.

We're inside the experience of being human.

And that's where the Pain-Free Weight Loss Method begins.

Not with a scale.

Not with a food tracker.

Not with punishment.

With curiosity.

With awareness.

With connection.

With learning to listen to your body instead of constantly fighting it.

Your Body Was Never the Enemy

I don't believe the answer is to go from:

"My body is the problem."

to:

"My body is perfect and I shouldn't want to change anything."

I think there's another possibility.

My body is worthy of care right now.

And I can still choose to change it.

That's the work I'm passionate about.

Because especially when you're living with chronic pain, fatigue, or other persistent symptoms, the relationship between your mind, body, nervous system, emotions, and environment becomes incredibly important.

It's not about blaming yourself for your symptoms.

It's about becoming curious about the whole system.

And learning to work with your body instead of constantly fighting against it.

That's what I mean by Pain-Free Weight Loss.

And maybe the goal isn't to finally earn the star.

Maybe the goal is to realize I don't need a star on my belly to belong here.

And neither do you.