Fine, I’ll talk about losing weight

Content warning: This piece talks about anti-fat bias, and uses the word “fat” to describe people without any euphemisms.

tl;dr: please don’t mention that I’ve lost weight.

I was at a gathering recently where I saw a person who’s close to me in relation, but not in physical location. The first thing she said to me was “wow, you’ve lost weight!” I don’t hold it against her, really. It was to be expected. I’ve spent the last 2 years working on altering my body’s shape and nobody saw me for over a year, and I haven’t mentioned it at all (because I don’t want to talk about it). I really should have remembered that people would start commenting on the change when they saw me again.

I’m a little pissed that I feel like I have to address this publicly. I consider my weight and size to be a very personal thing, deeply integrated with my disabilities and mental health. In fact, the last time I addressed it with any sort of publicity was in an intentional safe space group of about 10 mostly-strangers, 13 years ago. But if I don’t say something, y’all are gonna throw unexamined dirty pain at me and I’m kind of sick of that. So.

This is me addressing it: since June 2019, due to active work I have done for this purpose, my body has lost around 35 lbs of weight, and my body shape has changed in a noticeable fashion. I have gone down ~2 pant sizes, I can fit my arms into jackets I had outgrown, and I feel more comfortable in my shape. I’m still medically considered “obese” at 195 lbs and 5' 5". I have made this progress using a combination of prescribed medications to control appetite/cravings and various intermittent fasting patterns. This is what my primary care practitioner (PCP) and I have decided as the best course of action for me, personally, based on my individual needs and abilities. It’s changed a few times, and looks different than it did when I started. But the work is sustainable, adaptable, and it helps alter my body to the shape I want it to be.

And…that should be the end of it. No more comment should be necessary. This is a change I’m making to my body, that affects me and no one else, and you may observe the result if you see me in person. Like getting a tattoo or a piercing, really, or dying my hair. There is absolutely no reason this should be of special interest or note to anyone who isn’t my doctor, with the exception of the very few people who I trusted with the information that I was not comfortable with my shape.

But it is. I’ve begun getting the comments: good job! You’ve lost so much weight! Wow, how’d you do it? Oh, I keep meaning to lose weight!

I hate it. I hate getting these comments, because unless I’ve had a long discussion with you about the human body, my body in particular, and fat, I can pretty safely assume that it’s coming from a place of unexamined anti-fat bias. If you’ve never heard the term before, or you’ve dismissed it as “fatlogic” or something that lazy people use to excuse themselves from work, here’s a working definition: anti-fatness is a negative systemic bias that disadvantages people who have a greater body weight than what is perceived to be the norm. “Fat” is an identity assigned to a person the instant they’re seen, like race or gender. It’s generally associated with negativity: being fat is undesirable, demonstrates “bad” things about a person, and instinctively tells you that this person isn’t worth as much as someone at a more “normal” weight.

This manifests to fat folks as bias against us from employers and medical practitioners particularly, but also in availability of manufactured clothing and seating, to name some off the top of my head. It also shows up when our emotional concerns are dismissed on the basis of our “needing to lose a few pounds,” or when we believe that we deserve to be ignored or treated as second-class because we’re fat. As with all such identities, these effects are compounded at their intersection with other systemic biases (e.g. a fat Native person you see on the bus is going to get dirtier looks than I do).

And, frankly, I have no fucks to give to anyone who says “well yeah, being fat is lazy behavior/unhealthy/a lack of self-discipline, they need a good kick in the rear to not be fat!” No. Disconnect your keyboard and keep reading.

The reality is that a fat actor will be told that her injury from stage combat is just a problem that can be solved by losing weight. Or a fat student’s fibromyalgia pain will be dismissed because of her shape. Or a teen will be denied a basic retail job because he doesn’t have the “look” the store is going for — not because he’s unqualified, but because he’s fat. It’s an awful reality and it causes real harm to fully actualized, worthy human beings.

(P.S. If you thought “well that’s the job qualification,” I want you to ask yourself why, and remember that jobs are a necessity in this society to survive. Denying someone a job they’re qualified for, under capitalism, can be seen as an act of violence.)

This is why I was so grateful to find my current PCP. She mentioned my weight once at our very first meeting, and never again until 5 years later when I said I wanted to try to lose some. She’s always taken my pain seriously, and she’s believed me and referred me out to more specialists than I can count for the various symptoms my body continues to present. She is not a typical medical professional, and I’m very lucky to work with her.

The first thing she had me do when I asked her about losing weight was read the book “The Obesity Code” by Dr. Jason Fung. It’s an excellent read, and I recommend it for anyone who wants to learn about the genetic and hormonal causes of human fat. The last few chapters are about tactics for decreasing your insulin resistance, if that’s something you’re interested in doing, but the majority of the book is a meta analysis of various studies on fat, genetics, insulin, and their interactions.

What this book taught me primarily is that it’s not my FAULT I’m fat. It’s the result of a set of behaviors and hormonal triggers that I’ve been conditioned into, like many maladaptive behaviors (see: anxiety), and it’s something I can manage, even control, with serious effort (like anxiety!). There are risks and benefits to having more fat or less fat, and I’m allowed to choose what size and shape I want to be. That choice can take a lot of work to bring to reality, and that work will have its own risks and benefits to go along with it.

Most people don’t have the ability to act on this choice, and I know people who aren’t able to do similar work as me for similar results. Some folks can’t change their diets from how they are now, due to cost or blood sugar issues or medication conflicts. Some can’t exercise in convenient ways or have health concerns that make it extremely difficult to engage in regular sustained movement. Many fat people simply can’t take time and effort away from doing the Capitalism so they can have food and shelter.

I’m very lucky in that I’m a white Jew, I own a house in a pretty safe neighborhood, I own a bike and can keep it in good condition, and I’ve got mobility aids that make it possible for me to do forms of exercise that would otherwise be painful. I’m also lucky that I grew up doing martial arts, and have that knowledge of how my body moves to inform how I exercise now. And I’m extremely lucky to have a well-paying job with flexible hours, fully-remote work, and a partner who has union-bargained health insurance. All of these things contribute to my ability to both make and act on a choice to alter the shape of my body, or as we normally call it, “lose weight.”

My friends who are poor and fat don’t have my options. Many of my friends who are POC and fat don’t have my options. My trans friends who are fat don’t always have my options. My fat friends who live in the suburbs, where human-powered transport is often untenable, don’t have my options. My fat friends who have children don’t have my options. My fat friends without my background and education don’t have my options.

Not a single one of them deserves to be treated worse than me, or worse than anybody, because they haven’t had the option of choosing what size or shape they are.

Every time someone makes a comment about my weight loss, it manifests in me as guilt, as a spotlight on my privilege. I am extremely privileged to be able to alter my body’s shape to be I want it to be. I am just as privileged as a bodybuilder who spends thousands of dollars on gym memberships, trainers, and protein supplements. Worse, unsolicited positive comments comparing my current size to my prior size are saying, “I now grant you Human status.” Whether that’s how you mean it or not, anti-fat bias is part of the ocean of society that surrounds us, and your words carry this weight. Being fat is perceived as a strike against your humanity and your worthiness of rights, and now that I’m getting smaller, I’m allowed to have opportunities and be a Real Person. Again, it’s a shitty reality, and it is reality.

Even worse than that is making these comments around kids. Kids see the way your face lights up as you congratulate someone on losing weight. Fat kids internalize that and begin seeing themselves as lesser from the second someone makes a joke about “baby fat” or “pudge.” We know that if we don’t outgrow it, our future is that of a fat adult. So the internalized anti-fat bias begins to set in. Many fat kids hate themselves, on some level. Ask yourself who taught them that.

If you’re still stuck on the idea that you don’t hate fat people, or that fat people are inherently bad in some way, please go do some reading. “Anti-fat bias,” “anti-fatness,” and “fatphobia” will lead you to innumerable pieces of writing by and about fat people. Anti-fatness affects various genders differently, affects Black and white folks differently, affects disabled and abled folks differently. Seek out experiences by all sorts of fat people and learn about what life is like in our bodies — especially when there’s no way to act on changing them.

Go forth and learn.

If you believe me, and you’re ready to take an action to address the anti-fat bias that lives in you, please read on.

First, and most directly related to me: don’t comment on my size the next time you see me. Or on anyone’s size, at all, ever, unless you have their explicit consent. My size relative to a norm is absolutely none of your business. It is neither a reflection of my worth as a person nor an indication of my value as a member of society. It’s just the size I am, and I’m the one who needs to live with it. I promise you that every fat person in this country knows about the “obesity epidemic” and the health risks that come with having more fat. (And if they don’t? That’s a conversation they need to have with their doctor, not you.)

Second, in your internal monologue, address your reaction when you see a person who is fat. Notice any feelings that rise in your body, and counter any negative thoughts about them with a reminder that they’re human and you don’t know anything about them. If you want to help, accept the people around you as full humans at the size they are now, and at every size they are in the future.

Because we are.