Probably not what you’d expect.
I’ve learned that I don’t want to be a “gym person”. I don’t want to spend a quarter of my waking life in a gym, working out and stressing over muscle definition and BMIs. I don’t want to trade food-for-comfort for exercise-for-comfort. My sister does that. It’s as much of an addiction as overeating. “Gym people” are annoying, unless you’re a “gym person” yourself. And I don’t want to be one. If I wanted to go through boot camp, I’d’ve joined the military.
I’ve learned that formerly obese people can be as bad as if not worse than reformed smokers for preaching, nagging, and hassling.
I’ve learned that people who’ve struggled with their own weight can be even more bigoted and prejudiced than people who’ve never had to think about what they weigh. It seems fat acceptance is only an abstract concept even for many fat people.
I’ve learned that I want moderation. I would like to be more fit and to find it easier to shop for clothes and to reduce health problems I have and risks I carry. But I also want to not be *that* stressed about what I eat. I don’t want to count calories or obsess over everything that comes into or goes out of my body for the rest of my life. I want to indulge in a burger every now and then if I feel like it, without guilt, without feeling it’ll ruin my life. I may not ever want it but I don’t want anything to be forbidden. The idea that you can’t have this and you can’t have that is not the way I want to live. At 200 pounds, I was healthy, I was fit, and I didn’t feel like I was deprived in any way — I ate what I wanted but in moderation. And I wasn’t ashamed of how I looked. That’s what I want to relearn.