Join Marc Fennell and five guests to unpack the tension between body acceptance, health, class and medical ethics on Tell Me What You Really Think. Watch at 8.30pm (AEST) on SBS or stream now on SBS On Demand.
Stream free On Demand
Fat
episode • Tell Me What You Really Think • documentary • 52m
M
episode • Tell Me What You Really Think • documentary • 52m
M
And for more discussions and what we can and can’t do with our own body, watch Insight episode Your Body, Your Choice? On SBS On Demand.
Imagine being an Olympian and feeling too embarrassed to tell people.
Imagine the body that once made you exceptional now being the cause of your shame.
Imagine every time you spoke about your Olympic experience feeling like you had to insert a caveat that it was "20 years and 20 kilograms ago".
Sadly, this was my reality until last year.
If you looked at me during my athletic years, you might have assumed weight was never an issue for me; that years of training, discipline and competing at the highest level meant I had it all figured out.
Former swimmer Joanna Fargus prepares herself before starting in the women's 200m backstroke heats at the Swimming World Championships in Melbourne in 2007. Credit: Patrick B Kraemer/MAGICPBK
And when my career ended, that struggle only got worse.
For years, I carried not only extra weight, but also the shame and frustration that came with it.
I told myself the same things we are taught to believe: if I just tried harder, if I just ate less, if I just exercised more, I could return to my former weight.
But no matter what I did, my body did not want to cooperate.
Even Olympians struggle with their weight
People think that athletes are naturally lean, fit and immune to weight challenges.
That's simply not true, and it's refreshing to see athletes like US rugby player Ilona Maher talking openly about weight and body image.
I struggled with my weight since my teenage years, and even at my athletic peak, I had to consciously work harder to maintain a 'fighting weight'.
My weight also fluctuated tremendously, without me being able to identify why.
Joanna Fargus on the podium after winning gold in the women's 200m backstroke final at the 2006 Melbourne Commonwealth Games. Source: Supplied / Vince Caligiuri VJC/Fairfax Media via Getty Images
I remember the looks of disapproval when I showed up to competitions carrying extra weight — and the code words our coaches used with each other when they noticed.
My body didn't always align with the expectations placed on me as a competitive swimmer.
At the time I thought it was just a personal failing. I couldn't understand how I could train upwards of 30 hours a week and not be able to control my weight.
But, contrary to popular belief, weight isn't simply about calories in and calories out. It's about biology, genetics, hormones, and a complex interplay of factors that go far beyond simple maths.
When I retired from elite sport, my body changed even more. And with that came the comments, the unsolicited advice, the assumptions that I had "let myself go".
The pressure to conform to society's expectations didn't go away when I left the sport.
If anything, it got louder.
The pressure to just try harder
Sadly, we live in a time where weight stigma is everywhere.
It's in the way people assume larger bodies are the result of laziness or lack of discipline, and in the way we celebrate weight loss.
And for me, it was in the way people would look at me with confusion, as if an Olympian shouldn't be overweight.
I internalised that stigma for years. I blamed myself, and I tried every diet out there: the juice diet, paleo, Atkins. You name it, I tried it.
Joanna said she tried many diets, without success. Source: Supplied
The cycle was exhausting, both physically and mentally. And don't even get me started on perimenopause.
I consulted with an endocrinologist who did blood tests that showed I had insulin resistance and was pre-diabetic.
She explained the science around how GLP-1 medications worked: how they regulate blood sugar, reduce hunger, and address metabolic factors beyond our control.
Suddenly it all made sense: my struggle wasn't about willpower; it was about biology.
Since I started taking weight loss injections, I've lost 40kg.
But the biggest shift has been in my mindset.
Regaining my pride
I no longer feel shame about my body, and I don't feel like my weight is a personal failure. I finally understand that my body was never broken, it just needed the right tools to work with.
The weight loss injections help my body produce more insulin when needed, which helps me manage my pre-diabetes and my weight.
For too long, we have upheld this system where thinness is a mark of discipline, and fatness is seen as a failure. But for me, it was just the way my body worked.
Joanna says her breakthrough came after she consulted an endocrinologist. Source: Supplied
These days, it's liberating to not feel broken or feel like a failure.
And more importantly, it's incredible to stand tall and feel proud of my achievements as an Olympian, without a shadow of shame hanging over me.
Readers seeking support for eating disorders or body image concerns can call the Butterfly National Helpline on 1800 ED HOPE (1800 33 4673) or visit www.butterfly.org.au.
Readers seeking support with mental health can contact Beyond Blue on 1300 22 4636 or Lifeline crisis support on 13 11 14 or text 0477 13 11 14.
More information is available at beyondblue.org.au and lifeline.org.au or find an Aboriginal Medical Service here. Resources for young Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islanders can be found at Headspace: Yarn Safe.
Disclaimer: This article does not recommend or endorse GLP-1 medications. It is not intended to replace the advice provided by your own doctor or medical or health professional.
