I was at a friend’s house for a social gathering last week and a couple of acquaintances gasped, “You’ve lost weight!” At this point, I shuffled awkwardly and replied with amusement, “I don’t know how it happened. I haven’t been trying.” But the truth is, I have been trying. I’ve been trying to eat more plants and more organic, to care less about my body shape and size, to be consistent and, above all, to feel good.
I grew up believing that I had to be a certain shape and size to be attractive. I went on my first diet at thirteen, when I was righteously informed (by a woman claiming to be a trained nutritionist) that I was “fat” because I ate too much dhokla. As a teenager, I was convinced I wasn’t worthy of being in a relationship until I lost, at least, five kilos. I couldn’t cross a mirror without checking my reflection or go to school without weighing myself. And even then, I would constantly size up smaller women throughout the day, wishing and praying for their physique.
Years of yoyo dieting, overtraining, and anxiety had brought me to the counsel of my last nutritionist, Luke Coutinho. I recall calling him up while feeling particularly guilty after a binge-eating session and lamenting about the prospects of my future weight. Being the levelheaded, compassionate coach that as he is, he promptly instructed me to stop weighing myself. Period. It was unsettling but I accepted his guidance. It’s been fifteen years since I met with my first nutritionist, and eight months since I last weighed myself. I came to realize that, on the days I weighed myself in the mornings, my food habits became skewed according to whatever number showed up. A few grams up and I was eating less, a few grams down and I binged. Cutting the weighing scale out of my life helped me focus on what mattered: my emotions. What was I feeling when I over-ate? What was I feeling when I starved myself? Did I feel like indulging today? Was I craving vegetables (yes, it’s possible)? Over a couple of years I worked with Luke, he made me realize that I needed to focus on my emotions before I focused on food. Food habits, as it turns out, are merely the end product of emotional management.
It dawned on me that the phrase “You’ve lost weight” is just one way in which we condition ourselves to want smaller bodies. We truly believe that everyone can and should be the same (small) shape and size. Have you ever stopped to consider what the purpose of a smaller body is? What if the reason for weight loss or gain is because of an eating disorder, disease, or other medical reasons? What if it’s unintentional? Or less ominously, as Liz in the movie Eat, Pray, Love, says to her friend Sofi, who is upset over gaining weight,
“I’m so tired of waking up in the morning and recalling every single thing I ate the day before. Counting every calorie so I know exactly how much self-loathing to take into the shower. I’m going for it. I have no interest in being obese. I’m just through with the guilt. This is what I’m going to do. I’m going to finish this pizza… and tomorrow we’re going to go on a little date, and buy ourselves some bigger jeans.”
What if, like Liz, someone is simply happier in a larger body? “You’ve lost weight” is neither a compliment nor a conversation starter. It’s a way of telling someone, “I value you more when you take up less space in the room.”
Don’t get me wrong—I’m one of the most ardent crusaders for health you’re likely to come across. Let me repeat that. I’m one of the most ardent crusaders for health. Not weight loss. Here’s the connection: it’s true that folks with a larger build have problems such as heart disease, higher blood pressure, diabetes, and dyslipidemia more often. Reducing weight (if required) is, without a doubt, an aspect of healthy living. What it is not is an ultimate goal. Weight loss alone does not guarantee health. I’m sure you’ve come across several folks who have lost a ton of weight, but still get inadequate sleep, live highly stressful lives, and maybe even have dysfunctional relationships with themselves and/or others. Weight loss can be one of the benefits of building better holistic habits, but it is not the bullet train to a healthy and happy life. Spoiler alert: there is a no bullet train.
Perhaps, as Ashley Montague, a British anthropologist, once said, our collective goal is to “die young as old as possible.” Once I started digging into the research, mortality studies revealed that losing weight was definitely not a sure-shot at a better and longer life. Youth and health are as complex and coveted as life itself. Studies show that happiness, belonging, a sense of purpose, plant-based lifestyles, playing sports, and spending quality time with loved ones are far more holistic approaches to ageing like fine wine. I apologize for being the harbinger of bad (or good?) news, but weight loss alone is not the golden ticket to inheriting the metaphorical chocolate factory.
So, whenever I meet someone in a social or professional setting, I try and compliment them on the better practices they’ve managed to instil in their lives, rather than comment on their weight. This, of course, requires a conversation to be more in-depth than the constant ping-pong of “How are you?” “All good, and you?” *insert fake smile*. As a start, I suggest asking someone how they’re feeling, how their week was, or (and this is my personal favourite for when I meet someone new) “What’s your story?” Whatever the comment or question of choice, make it genuine, authentic, specific, and focused on emotion. And let’s be real, should anyone really be focusing on someone else’s body that much? Weight is just one of the ways we’ve been conditioned to value our physical selves more than our emotional selves, but it’s neither the most important nor the most interesting thing about us.