The body that speaks. The weight that protects

About being overweight, underweight, competence, sexuality and the courage to be yourself

This is not a text about dieting.

This is not a guide on ‘how to lose weight’ or instructions on ‘how to gain weight’.

Nor is it another motivational fairy tale about willpower and self-discipline.

This is a story about a body that knows.

About weight that is not accidental.

About kilograms that make sense.

And about a person who is learning to stop treating their body as an enemy.

Because the biggest misconception of our time is the belief that the body needs to be fixed.

When in fact, it has been doing everything it can to protect you for years.

And between you and me... if the body had a voice on voicemail, it would probably say something like:

‘Hey, I'm not sabotaging you. I'm just implementing a safety plan. How about you stop treating me like a failed project and start treating me like a partner in special operations?’ 😏

The disease of mindfulness – why we don't hear the weight

And here's a little uncomfortable but honest truth: we often have a ‘I know you're there, but not today, darling’ relationship with the weight. The mirror is already suggesting something, the trousers are starting to negotiate slightly with the zip, but us? We pretend it's a conspiracy of fabrics 😌

By the way, it's fascinating how much we can ignore our own bodies. If the weight were a toxic ex, you would have blocked them at all levels of consciousness long ago. But no... somehow we can live with the extra kilos for years, pretending that it's just a ‘temporary cognitive crisis of the mirror’ 😉

It's incredible how selective our attention can be.

Toothache? We react immediately.

Sprained ankle? We take action.

Fever? Alarm bells.

And weight?

Being overweight doesn't hurt.

Being underweight doesn't scream.

It doesn't burn. It doesn't sting. It doesn't demand our attention here and now.

That is why we can live with it for years, rationalise it, downplay it, pretend it does not exist. Sometimes it only becomes a problem when it starts to ‘spoil’ aesthetics, relationships, intimacy or freedom of movement.

And only then do we start asking questions.

Most often, however, not the right ones.

Weight as an intelligent biological strategy

From the perspective of Biodecoding, the body does not make mistakes. Every reaction has its biological justification.

Both overweight and underweight are responses to a specific conflict, a sense of threat, a lack of security or emotional overload.

The body does not ask about the ideal figure. It asks only one thing: how to survive?

And it answers itself through the body.

The benefits of being overweight – when more means safer

And the funniest thing? We often treat it as sabotage, and it responds with complete conviction: ‘Darling, I'm here as a full-time bodyguard. Please don't interfere with my full-time protection of your sensitivity.’ 💼😌

Excess weight can be:

– a shield against intimacy

– a barrier to sexuality

– distance from relationships

– an alibi for withdrawal

– a stress regulator

– protection from judgement

– a way to avoid being seen

For many women, this means: ‘I'm not very attractive, so I'm safe.’

For some men: ‘I don't get into relationships, so I won't be betrayed.’

Weight thus becomes a psychobiological shield that protects against pain, rejection, confrontation and overexposure.

The benefits of being underweight – when less means disappearing

And now, being underweight... a topic that is often shrouded in an aura of delicacy, ethereality and ‘oh, how petite’.

But let me call it what it is – sometimes it's not subtlety, but the masterfully mastered art of disappearing.

Underweight can say:

‘I don't take up space – I don't get in the way.’

‘I'm not a problem – I'm transparent.’

‘Don't feel me – I barely exist.’

It's a body in minimal mode, a demo package, basic volume. Because being seen? Too intense. Too burdensome. Too responsible.

Sometimes it's the body of a girl who doesn't want to become a woman. Because femininity means judgement, sexuality, interest... and that's an emotional rollercoaster without a safety belt.

Sometimes it's a body that says:

‘The less of me there is, the less they'll touch me.’

And yes, being underweight also has its ‘benefits’:

– I can hide

– I can avoid growing up

– I can avoid feeling

– I can avoid choosing

Sound familiar?

Because this delicate body often harbours a huge need for control:

‘If I can't control the world, at least I can control my calories.’

And seriously — sometimes it's not a diet, it's an ultra-light survival strategy 😉

Being underweight also has its benefits, although we rarely talk about them.

It can be an attempt to:

– disappear from view

– regain control

– inhibit sexuality

– escape adulthood

– punish oneself

– not take up space

The body reduces its presence, as if to say, ‘I don't want to be here fully.’

Food as an emotional regulator

Let's be honest — how many times have you had a very deep conversation with your fridge at 11:48 p.m. instead of talking to your own soul?

And that fridge is so empathetic... it doesn't judge, it's always open, always ready to listen. A dream therapist 😉

Food as an emotional regulator

Because it's easier to eat an emotion than to experience it. Seriously. One less chocolate bar hurts less than confronting your own ‘why am I settling for mediocrity again?’. And cheesecake? Cheesecake is almost therapy... at least until you look at its empty packaging 😂

In many cases, food becomes the language of emotions.

Instead of feeling, we eat.

Instead of talking, we swallow.

Instead of setting boundaries, we help ourselves to another portion.

A full stomach tries to cover up an empty heart.

And the body, loyal as ever, submits to this strategy.

Sexuality and weight

And here comes the classic dilemma:

Do I want to be desired...

or do I prefer to have a peaceful day without random glances that resemble an airport scan? 😏

Sexuality and weight

And here I will quietly admit – some of us prefer to be invisible rather than accidentally ignite someone's primitive instincts. It is safer to be a fluffy angel than an object of spiritual consumption. The body says, ‘Thank you, I'm not on the menu today.’ 😏

Weight very often regulates sexuality as well.

Being overweight can be a shield against being desired.

Being underweight – a form of extinguishing the erotic body.

If touch was once invasive, the body has learned that attractiveness = danger.

So it redefines its form to regain control.

It is better to be safe than desirable.

But the price can be high: the loss of the joy of feeling like a woman or a man.

My story – a turning point

Now I take off my guide's coat and become simply Aga.

Made of flesh and blood, emotions... and a fairly substantial amount of weight, which, as it turns out, did not come here for a free stay 😉

I once heard: ‘How can you help others when you are obese yourself?’

And you know what? For a moment, I wanted to reply:

‘How can you trust a neurologist when he has migraines himself?’

But since I am a woman with class (and a sense of humour), I turned it into a reflection. Because I don't teach how to lose weight.

I teach how to stop waging war on your own body.

I teach how to understand the meaning of a symptom instead of starving it, sewing it up or drowning it out with kale smoothies.

Yes, I have been overweight since I was 21.

And I tried to fight it for years.

Diets, detoxes, ‘new life starting tomorrow’ phases and episodes entitled ‘this time for sure’.

And then Total Biology came along and gently said to me:

‘Aga... how about you stop fighting with yourself and start listening to yourself?’

And then it dawned on me.

My fat wasn't the enemy.

It was my bodyguard. A sensitive, slightly overzealous, but loyal bodyguard 😉

Three waves of my excess weight

The first – after my first sexual experience and contraception.

15 kg in a month.

The programme: don't be too attractive.

Because ‘attractive’ in my system at the time meant: potentially threatened. And safety sounds sexier than trauma, right?

The second – after the birth of my son.

Loneliness, responsibility, taking on a masculine role.

My body became my armour.

A bit like: ‘Calm down, world, Aga is in warrior mode. Muscles + kilos + determination – premium protection package.’

Third – after my husband's death.

Another 20 kg – pure survival mode.

There was no room for philosophy here. It was: survive. Breathe. Don't fall apart.

And you know what?

My weight has been stable for over 2.5 years.

This is the first time my body has stopped acting like a fire alarm that goes off with every emotional tension.

I'm not gaining weight. I'm not fighting. I'm not living in ‘escape from another calorie chart’ mode.

And honestly?

This is my personal Nobel Prize for self-compassion 😌

Weight versus competence and authority

My excess weight also had a more subtle function: it allowed me to be taken seriously.

Seriously. With the label ‘authority’, not ‘pretty to look at, but let's not ask her difficult questions’ 😌

Because attractive women are still too often labelled as silly, empty-headed, decorative. The kind who probably knows everything about nail colours, but not necessarily about the psychobiology of conflicts and the human soul.

And here I must honestly correct that:

I do know everything about nail colours. By choice. Out of passion. By profession 😉

Because yes — I divide my working time between being a consciousness guide... and being a nail stylist with an artistic flair.

Are these mutually exclusive? Absolutely not.

With one hand, I decode emotions, with the other, I choose the perfect shade of burgundy with a hint of decadence ✨

And I wanted to be heard, not seen.

Not invited to smile nicely for a photo, but to the decision-making table.

So my body said:

‘I am substance, not decoration. You read me, you don't hang me on the wall.’

And in that sense, being overweight acted as a very serious quality filter: those who listened, really listened. Those who only wanted a pretty shell bounced off me like a biological firewall 😉

This protected me from objectification, but it also distanced me from lightness and sensuality.

Because it's hard to allow yourself to flirt with femininity when the whole system is set to ‘respect or nothing’.

Weight as part of identity

For many people, weight becomes the foundation of their self-image.

‘This is who I am.’

‘I've always been bigger/smaller.’

‘I just have massive energy’ – it almost sounds like body astrology 😉

Over time, the kilos cease to be an addition. They become a personality. A historical narrative. An identity label.

A weight change therefore means a change in the whole story about oneself.

And that can be more frightening than staying in familiar discomfort.

Because suddenly you have to answer the question:

‘If I'm no longer the bigger one / the struggling one / the one who's always fighting... then who am I?’

And this is where the safety brake often kicks in.

Because certain suffering is familiar.

And unknown freedom? It can be suspicious 😏

Questions that restore awareness

Some of these questions may sound like an internal audit without a filter:

‘Body, what are you up to again and why are you turning my stomach into an archive of emotions from 1998?’ 😉

And relax... this is not the time for overly sweet positive affirmations like: ‘I am a light butterfly in the meadow of consciousness.’ More like: ‘Okay, Aga, what are you really up to with your body?’ 😉

Instead of asking: how to lose weight? how to gain weight?

ask:

– What does it give me?

– What does it protect me from?

– What role does it give me?

– What does it free me from?

– Who will I become when it disappears?

Because the body does not change under pressure.

It changes when it feels safe.

The punchline – when protection is no longer needed

I don't want to be just lighter or just fuller.

I want to be more myself.

And if my weight changes, it will be not out of compulsion, but out of a sense of security.

Because the body doesn't want to be perfect.

The body wants to be heard.

And when it is heard, it stops screaming through kilograms.

It begins to breathe.

It begins to trust.

It begins its transformation.

With mindfulness.

With tenderness.

With the courage to be itself.