Jeremy Loreau, sports + nutrition coach for women since 2015

Beaucoup me connaissent aujourd’hui à travers mes transformations physiques, mes études de cas détaillées ou encore mon rôle de coach sportif et nutritionnel auprès de célébrités, comme Caroline RECEVEUR.

Mais avant d’être celui qui accompagne — j’ai été celui qui échoue. J’ai traversé ce que j’appelle l’enfer des régimes.

Le 22 février 2013, à 19 ans, j’ai tenté le pire d’entre eux. Du lundi au vendredi, je mangeais chaque midi le même repas insipide : un filet de colin et des haricots verts vapeur [miam-miam]. Ce plat sans couleur et sans saveur symbolisait à lui seul la monotonie de cette période de ma vie.

Vers 17:30, je montais sur le vélo elliptique pour compenser les excès du week-end passé. Je pédalais jusqu’à l’épuisement, convaincu que la sueur lavant mes fautes, je finirais par mériter le corps que je désirais. Après la séance, je m’enfilais des shakers bourratifs de protéines en poudre et des compléments alimentaires censés optimiser ma prise de masse musculaire.

Puis, le soir venu, rebelote : tête à tête avec ma tranche de poulet et mes épinards sans crème, sans saveur. Sans plaisir, jamais. Je sentais bien que ces repas n’étaient pas faits pour l’amoureux du sucre et du gras que j’étais, mais mon coach de l’époque me répétait sans relâche que c’était bon pour moi.

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Quand l’heure du cheat meal sonnait, j’ouvrais la porte à mes ennemis jurés — l’abondance et la démesure

Je compensais ma frustration alimentaire de la semaine par des orgies de nourriture, dans ce même buffet à volonté. Ces crises me coûtaient un fric fou, d’ailleurs. Mais après tout — j’avais bien mérité ma récompense, non ?

C’était plus fort que moi : je devais me goinfrer tant que ça rentrait. Tant que mon corps ne me suppliait pas de vomir. En moins d’une heure, je ruinais tous mes sacrifices de la semaine. La honte.

Au fil des mois, les crises ont empiré. Mon repas plaisir du samedi s’est cumulé avec le petit-déjeuner de triche du dimanche. Sournoisement, le cheat meal s’est transformé en journée de triche, puis en semaines entières à me gaver d’aliments transformés.

J’ai massacré mon estime personnelle à petit feu à cause des craquages à répétition. J’étais passé en mode foutu pour foutu. Le pire, c’est que je me sentais coupable dès les premières secondes où je ne respectais plus les règles sévères que je m’imposais.

Une minute de plaisir, sept jours de remords. Non-stop. J’étais incapable de sortir de ce cercle vicieux. La malbouffe me hantait même la nuit…

Et tu sais quoi ?

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En 3 ans de régime, j’ai pris 21 kg de graisse

Je faisais le yoyo tout le temps, parce qu’à côté de mes crises, je continuais ma sèche extrême pour perdre ces poignées d’amour qui me faisaient perdre confiance en moi. J’ai trouvé des excuses bidon pour décliner les sorties au restaurant, par peur de ne pas pouvoir manger à ma faim.

Ou plutôt — par peur de ne pas pouvoir me gaver comme je voulais.

Je craignais le regard de mes proches quand je faisais des réserves pour le troisième round au buffet. J’ai même été jusqu’à refuser d’aller en vacances au bord de l’eau avec ma chérie, parce que j’avais honte d’afficher mon corps en maillot de bain. Tu vois de quoi je parle ?

J’en avais les larmes aux yeux.

J’étais prisonnier d’un cercle vicieux. Mes craquages étaient redevenus mon refuge. Pourquoi redevenus ? Parce que mon poids m’a gâché la vie pendant très longtemps, figure-toi. Quand j’étais gosse, mes copains me pointaient du doigt en se moquant dans la cour de récré parce que j’étais bouboule.

Ils ignoraient que ma mère, qui travaillait dur, rapportait tous les soirs des sucreries à la maison pour se faire pardonner de son absence. Avec du recul, c’est impossible de lui en vouloir. Elle nous a élevés seule, ma sœur et moi.

J’ai donc grandi avec la malbouffe. Avec ce sentiment de solitude et ce besoin de récompense. Je suis devenu accro au sucre malgré moi, parce que j’étais dépendant des petites attentions qui me rapprochaient de ma mère.

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Pendant 3 ans, j’ai connu des échecs à répétition avec les coachs et les régimes à la mode

Ils m’ont livré des règles toutes faites, des programmes contraignants que j’ai appliqués sans jamais comprendre pourquoi je faisais tout ça, ni ce que cela m’apportait vraiment. Je commençais sérieusement à croire que j’étais trop faible, trop mauvais pour me construire le corps que je voulais.

Les régimes m’avaient littéralement cramé le cerveau. Mais je sentais qu’il me restait une dernière chance. J’étais prêt à revoir complètement mon comportement alimentaire pour me sortir de cet enfer.

Stop. J’ai dit stop à toutes ces méthodes miracles de spécialistes qui bousillaient ma santé, aussi bien physique que mentale.

Pour comprendre les véritables besoins de mon corps et apprendre à l’honorer, j’ai donc passé plusieurs certifications en nutrition.

My life changed the day I was finally able to make sense of everything I was eating thanks to my new knowledge. I discovered the joy of cooking healthy, delicious meals, with no forbidden foods, while still enjoying myself.

No more demonizing foods that are too fatty or too sugary. No more depressing restrictions. No more cheat meal to reward myself. No more compensation after a celebratory meal. No more obsessions or binge eating episodes.

Today, I enjoy everything I want, without feeling guilty.

I feel free.

Thanks to a nuanced approach to eating, I took the time to build a body I love. A body I nourish consciously and thoughtfully.

This is my story. I tattooed it onto my body over time, so I would never forget where I came from. But at this point, you may be wondering what motivates my work.

Why this man coaches women over 40

I did not choose to become a coach just for spectacular before-and-after transformations.

I chose it the day I understood what it means to lose your freedom. My grandmother was not a lazy woman. She was stylish, elegant, always well put together. She belonged to a generation where thinness symbolized distinction, and sport was a masculine luxury. She never felt the need to move to feel good, at least that is what she believed.

Until that ordinary fall in a supermarket.

Nothing serious, people said. And yet, it was the turning point. Her body, which she had never strengthened, could not withstand the impact. The fracture, the rehab, then the sedentary life. First the cane, then the walker, and finally the wheelchair. Her world gradually shrank until it was limited to a living room, a television, and a meal tray. She kept smiling, but I could clearly see that behind that smile, there was no more movement, no more breath, no more strength.

This is the image I keep of her, a gentle, loving woman, trapped in a body she had never learned to care for.

She took refuge in food, the only thing she could still offer generously. At her house, refusing a plate meant refusing her love. So I ate. Out of respect, out of affection. Without realizing it, she was teaching me two things at once, the beauty of giving, and the danger of the habits we pass on without questioning them.

When she passed away, I understood that her story was not a fatality, but a consequence. That we do not grow old because we age, but because we stop moving.

That silent promise, to never let someone I love fade away before their time, became a mission.

That is where my mother's story intertwines with hers. My mother also fought against her body. I watched her weigh herself, restrict herself, buy slimming drinks and meal replacements. I remember her in her office, with an empty stomach, convincing herself that she had to suffer to deserve her figure. I also remember her episodes, a box of cereal, cheese, bread, as if trying to fill a void no diet could soothe. I was there, beside her, eating the pastry she had brought me, without understanding that we were sharing the same spiral, the spiral of guilt, fatigue, and the need for love.

Between my grandmother, who slowly faded away, and my mother, who exhausted herself fighting, I understood how deeply our relationship with the body can become a prison.

That is the obvious reason I chose to support women.

I guide those who have too often forgotten themselves by giving, nourishing, and carrying for others. Those who, like them, learned generosity before strength. My work is not about transforming bodies just to make them more beautiful, but about giving them back their freedom. About teaching them that health is not a punishment, but an act of love toward oneself.

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When I dove into the world of fitness, I thought I would find answers, but I lost myself

I wanted to understand how this body I hated worked. But I quickly discovered an industry built on lies and guilt. It does not try to educate you, it keeps you in ignorance so it can sell you the next miracle solution. It makes you believe your body is a problem, and that it must be fixed at all costs.

Until the day I decided to disobey. To stop submitting to absurd rules and start understanding them. To stop trying to fit a standard and start reclaiming freedom.

It is this freedom that I want to pass on today.

My work is not about imposing a model, but about teaching autonomy. I help women take back power over their bodies, understand what they are doing and why they are doing it. I do not promise miracles, I pass on knowledge. I teach them to eat without fear, to move without constraint, to make progress without judging themselves. To transform their bodies, yes, but above all their relationship with themselves.

Because real transformation does not begin in the gym, but in the mind.

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My approach is minimalist, scientific, and deeply human

I am not trying to do more and more, but to aim right. In training as in nutrition. I help women become strong in the fullest sense of the word, strong in their minds, solid in their bodies, confident in their ability to assert themselves and push beyond their limits. A strength you can see, feel, and that sets you free. Together, we shape a harmonious and powerful body, capable of moving without pain, carrying daily life with ease, and fully embodying who they are becoming.

I do not promise miracles. I help women regain the freedom to eat without fear, by understanding what they are doing and why they are doing it. To nourish themselves with pleasure, with solid knowledge rather than restrictions.

My profession is not to create elite athletes, but everyday athletes, women who are free to love their bodies, free to age without giving up their abilities, free to feel proud of themselves without having to suffer to get there.

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Every woman I support carries a story

Often, they doubt, they tell themselves it is too late. But it is never too late to reconcile with yourself. My role is to turn on the light. To show them that they already have everything within them to become strong, fulfilled, and independent. My work is not just about transforming bodies, but about transforming stories. About proving to them that freedom is not found in perfection, but in understanding.

This is the fight I carry on every day, to give women back the power to never again feel trapped in their bodies. Because if my grandmother taught me the cost of inaction, my mother taught me the cost of struggle. And it is between these two inheritances, resignation and suffering, that I chose my path, the path of reconciliation.

But you need to know this too.

I’m lucky to live and share my passion with the woman of my life

This is Maëlle, my wife, the one who has been by my side for over ten years, with unwavering support. Even when I was going through my crises, she never judged me. She picked me back up, again and again.

I owe her a lot.

Today, Maëlle is an integral part of my work. Together, we come up with the indulgent recipes you find on the site, and much more. If you want to understand what drives her, what pushes her to go so far in everything she does, I invite you to discover her story.

Here’s a fact few people know: Maëlle and I chose not to have children so we could travel freely and discover the world at our own pace. We lived in Réunion Island (our home island), then in Bordeaux, Nice, Corsica, Spain, Vietnam, and Thailand. Not to mention the countless trips we take.

Well, when I say no children, that’s not entirely true.

Nola has been our little girl since 2017.

A Pomeranian with a strong personality. Thanks to her small size, she comes with us everywhere, from one continent to another.

Thank you for reading this far. You now know a little more about me. And since nothing is more precious than your health and well-being, it’s time for you too to take the first step toward your new life.