“There seems to be less and less of you,” my dear friend and mentor Kathy said one morning as we walked into church, her smile complimentary.
“There is,” I affirmed, smiling back.
“Well, you look great,” she said, before adding, “Then again, you looked great before too.”
“Thank you for saying that,” I replied. “Truly.”
As I’ve shared publicly, my weight loss is assisted by a GLP-1 and numerous lifestyle changes following various orthopaedic crises. My friend’s comment about my significant weight loss over the past six months was the first I received that didn’t make me cringe a little inside. Because she recognized something that I’ve struggled with as well-meaning family members, friends and colleagues tell me how “great” I look.
Somewhere deep inside, when I hear these comments, I also hear a conviction that I didn’t look that great or that well or that fabulous before. I recognize that these comments are part of how we are programmed in society to equate weight loss with pleasing aesthetics. Many people on their weight loss trajectories love hearing such compliments because of this programming, and as a sign of affirmation that their hard work is paying off. Yet for me, especially having a history of both disordered eating and trauma around my body, comments about my changing appearance will always bring up mixed feelings.
I’ve long followed a personal ethic to not comment on people’s changing appearance, especially their weight. I saw an advocacy meme a few years ago that summed it up quite perfectly: We don’t know why people may be dropping weight. It could be due to an eating disorder or an illness like cancer. We may be “complimenting” something that is, in reality, causing an individual a great deal of pain. Overall, I wish that people would take this advice to heart.
Now, if someone in my circles is sharing about their weight loss process in a public forum like social media, or if they bring it up themselves in conversation, I might engage. I didn’t mind that Kathy brought it up because she knows me, and my life story, rather well. Yet I’ve long made it a point to tell people that they look beautiful or handsome in both versions of their body.
Because I truly believe that.
There is a GLP-1 influencer I follow because she posts some helpful content. And she constantly posts before and after photos and videos that make me a little uneasy. To me, the constant comparisons can feel like an implicit rejection of her former body, even if that’s not her intention. Candidly, the constant barrage of before and after photos online can activate me and I’ve stopped following many accounts where I am likely to see these on a daily basis. One of the reasons I’ve been able to make peace with intentionally losing this much weight is that I decided to love my body and myself regardless of her size. Sometimes I make it a point to slide into that influencer’s comments and tell her that in my opinion, she looks beautiful in both versions of her body.
I’ve noticed over these last few months that it’s become easier for me to take compliments about my weight loss, even though I have scores of sociopolitical concerns in my psyche about whether equating weight loss with looking “great” is problematic. About a month ago, a long-time student of mine came into an online class, not having seen me in quite some time.
She remarked, “Why Jamie! You look… well.”
I could tell that she stumbled to find the right word. In her case, I think the surprise at seeing me prompted her comment more as a gut-level reaction and she may have even regretted saying anything. While there can be some issues in equating weight loss with wellness, in my case, it is quite true. The significant weight loss has improved every area of my functioning, health, and wellness. And that is something I celebrate.
In closing, I do caution you to be mindful about the comments that you are compelled to make, either in person or online, about peoples’ bodies. In the era of GLP-1s with more people having marked, physically obvious weight loss, there are more opportunities to do it. And with more opportunities also comes more chances to practice intentionality and reflection.
The person standing before us today is no more deserving of kindness, dignity, or beauty than the person they were when they carried more weight.
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