Restriction, rigour, and me 

For as long as I can remember, I have been passionate about dancer health and wellbeing. It’s a complex question as to why this is, but what I do know is that when I first heard about the REDs in Dance project, it immediately resonated with me and my mission to help improve the industry in whatever way I can.

I have struggled with disordered eating habits, body image issues, and potentially an undiagnosed eating disorder since my mid-teens - those are the things I am certain of. When I was asked to share my experiences of Relative Energy Deficiency in Dance, I immediately began to wonder if my story could be counted as REDs and whether it would be a valid part of the discourse. 

However, after some discussion and reflection, I realised that this was the most pertinent question of all. I do not know to what extent I suffered from REDs, and I certainly did not have the information needed to place myself on the scale of damage it likely caused me. That in itself is worth exploring.

I was lucky to have a very happy vocational training. These were some of the most joyful years of my life growing up from seven to nineteen years old with a group of around fifteen boys who were in my class. Unusually, almost all of us stayed on from the first to the last year of school - avoiding being axed part way through - sharing many beautiful experiences along the way. 

Although I didn’t think too much about it at the time, I remember being told on my first day at boarding school, aged eleven, that I should lose a bit of weight around my middle as a teacher jokingly grabbed the puppy fat at my waist. There were further comments about my shape, mostly made in jest by friends and teachers who wanted the best for me, but I was aware that my frame was softer; I was thicker-set, and my muscles were never defined in the same way as the other twelve-year-olds in my class. From about the age of fifteen, it became a running joke with a friend that we would constantly try to be thinner, and that is when I began restricting food.

In the late nineties, we did have some information on nutrition, but I was sure I could improve my physique myself by eating as little as possible, especially during the daytime. In my late teens, I would skip breakfast, occasionally buying an energy bar on the way to school, or perhaps some fruit pastilles and a cup of tea with sugar during mid-morning break. For lunch, I’d have a sandwich, often throwing some of the bread in the bin, and only finally in the evening would I have a proper meal which frequently led to overeating due to extreme hunger. 

There is no way I had the energy to meet the psychological demands of elite ballet training and the physical requirements of male technique in particular. I became obsessed with trying to make my legs thinner, as I have a naturally sturdy build. Later in my career, I realised that from the auditorium of a big theatre, they looked in decent proportion, but with the mirror less than a meter away and years of hearing jokes about my physique, I was convinced I was unlikely to be accepted into a classical company.

Throughout my twenties at ENB, I worked incredibly hard. The schedule was gruelling, and looking back, I honestly had no idea how to properly fuel myself for such a demanding routine. Along the way, I picked up bits of information from colleagues or occasional nutrition talks, but in the days before social media and smartphones, it was a different world. In some ways, it was better, but information was certainly scarcer. I thought carbohydrates were the enemy. I had no idea how much protein I should be consuming, or how to improve my sleep and rest. Now, I don’t know how I managed it.

The rigorous pace left me with very low body fat at certain stages of my career. It felt like I had won the lottery; it was the look I had always envied in my colleagues during training. But toward the middle of my career, as I was dancing many principal roles, I began to get injured and the psychological impact of the stress started to show. I definitely drank too much alcohol and lacked sufficient sleep. I am also sure I wasn't eating enough of the right foods, always with the goal of being as thin as possible and hating myself when I wasn't where I wanted to be.

I suffered back issues, mental health struggles, recurring toe joint problems, and underwent shoulder surgery, bilateral calf surgery, and bilateral hip surgery. I made it through them all, bruised and battered. There were times when I performed at less than my best, and certainly times when I was very hard on myself as anxiety and doubt crept in.

I really do wonder what I could have achieved if I had known then what I know now about nutrition, sleep, recovery, and psychological resilience. I don’t regret a thing, but I do urge the dance industry, from early training to the final days of a professional career, to inform itself about REDs and put strategies in place to ensure every dancer has the support to thrive. 

Lastly, I want to remind everyone that there is a lot of life after dance. We owe it to ourselves and our community to build strong, healthy bodies that will serve us and our families long after we leave the stage.