Anyone who carries around even a little extra poundage, and then manages to unload some of it, has heard this from a well-meaning person: "Now, don't you feel better?"
My short answer is, "Not necessarily."
Our culture -- in its admirable effort to take seriously the health risks that affect the approximately 160 MILLION overweight or obese people in our nation -- has created yet another pigeonhole. Heavy people are unhealthy. Thin people are healthy.
Not necessarily.
The corollary to that pigeonhole is the assumption adopted by all too many health care professionals, physicians and nurses in particular: If you are overweight or obese, whatever symptoms you're experiencing are a direct result of your extra weight, and weight loss will cure whatever ails you. (To every doctor who's ever taken one glance at a patient and declared, "I'll tell you what's wrong with you right now -- you need to LOSE WEIGHT!" : May you contract an itchy, drug-resistant fungus in a place you can't scratch in public.)
Am I healthier for having lost 120 pounds through exercise and sensible diet? On the whole, I think so. Certainly I'm more active and energetic.
However, when the pounds began to drop, my body fought back.
Without going into excessive detail (because of HIPAA, and because nobody wants to hear about other people's aches and pains), I've had to learn, the hard way, that I must make sure I keep myself fueled and hydrated. No, I'm not starving myself or binging and purging. There have just been times when I've put other things (like exercise or work) at a higher priority than eating. I've rationalized, "I'll get something to eat LATER," and "later" turned to "too late."
A reconfigured body has different requirements than my old, larger body. It's an adjustment -- and at times, a trade-off.
And again, I realize I'm one of the lucky ones. My weight loss was intentional. But I weep for the people whose acquaintances have gushed about their weight loss -- not realizing that it is the result of an eating disorder, a crushing life crisis or treatment for a life-threatening cancer.
Speaking only for myself, I say it's OK to notice my weight loss and comment on it. Most of the people who do so are people I know pretty well, and have known for a long time.
But put on the brakes, please, if you're inclined to assume that weight loss always results in improved health. Instead of saying, "Now, don't you feel better?" consider something more open-ended, like, "How are you feeling?"
My short answer is, "Not necessarily."
Our culture -- in its admirable effort to take seriously the health risks that affect the approximately 160 MILLION overweight or obese people in our nation -- has created yet another pigeonhole. Heavy people are unhealthy. Thin people are healthy.
Not necessarily.
The corollary to that pigeonhole is the assumption adopted by all too many health care professionals, physicians and nurses in particular: If you are overweight or obese, whatever symptoms you're experiencing are a direct result of your extra weight, and weight loss will cure whatever ails you. (To every doctor who's ever taken one glance at a patient and declared, "I'll tell you what's wrong with you right now -- you need to LOSE WEIGHT!" : May you contract an itchy, drug-resistant fungus in a place you can't scratch in public.)
Am I healthier for having lost 120 pounds through exercise and sensible diet? On the whole, I think so. Certainly I'm more active and energetic.
However, when the pounds began to drop, my body fought back.
Without going into excessive detail (because of HIPAA, and because nobody wants to hear about other people's aches and pains), I've had to learn, the hard way, that I must make sure I keep myself fueled and hydrated. No, I'm not starving myself or binging and purging. There have just been times when I've put other things (like exercise or work) at a higher priority than eating. I've rationalized, "I'll get something to eat LATER," and "later" turned to "too late."
A reconfigured body has different requirements than my old, larger body. It's an adjustment -- and at times, a trade-off.
And again, I realize I'm one of the lucky ones. My weight loss was intentional. But I weep for the people whose acquaintances have gushed about their weight loss -- not realizing that it is the result of an eating disorder, a crushing life crisis or treatment for a life-threatening cancer.
Speaking only for myself, I say it's OK to notice my weight loss and comment on it. Most of the people who do so are people I know pretty well, and have known for a long time.
But put on the brakes, please, if you're inclined to assume that weight loss always results in improved health. Instead of saying, "Now, don't you feel better?" consider something more open-ended, like, "How are you feeling?"
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