Before last Christmas, I attended a local musical event. Behind the bar was a man I knew a little bit through our mutual, former in my case, support for the local football team Bristol Rovers. As I was ordering a pint of beer, he made a point of telling me how much weight I had put on, not once but twice, accompanied by hand-movements to indicating my portly disposition. I thanked him for pointing this out, adding that he’d made me feel particularly good about myself. Around the same time, another person I know well said virtually the same thing, but this time making a joke about it. “Thank you for noticing,” I replied. “It makes me feel particularly good having you say it in front of all your friends.” While they were both correct, I wondered what it was that made someone think that it was acceptable to talk to me in such terms. No way would I talk to someone else like that.
I wouldn’t, for example, have said to the first person: “How’s your disabled child? Are they still disabled?” Or to the second: “How’s your partner’s dementia? Do they still know who you are?” No. I’d have asked, politely, both how they were and how their relatives are. I should add, at this point, that I only thought of these questions while writing this blog and not at the time. My mind doesn’t work like that.
Some years ago, someone I used to know got themself very fit after a health scare, lost shit loads of weight and became a serial 10k bore. Whenever they saw someone who was carrying even the slightest paunch, they made a point of referring to it. I was one of these people, I was seriously unimpressed and, knowing what sort of person they were, removed them from my life, first from social media and later from the real world.
When it comes to referring to someone’s appearance, I might say something like, “You’re looking well,” because they do and I like being kind. If someone has, say put on weight, or there appears to be something else going on, then silence is the best policy, if “How are you?” isn’t quite the right question. Saying someone is fat, or has a large wart on their face, is not for me to comment upon. I don’t know whether that weight gain – or even loss – is down to poor health or that wart is actually skin cancer. I don’t want to say, “Wow! You’ve lost weight!” only for the person to reply, “Yes, I’ve got terminal cancer.” I try to think, especially in the moment, of other people’s feelings.
I did not need telling I had put on weight. Obviously, I knew about it because some of my clothes no longer fit and it got me down a lot. The Covid-19 lockdown played a major role in my weight gain and getting stopped by the police at the nearby railway station when I decided I’d go for a walk and watch some trains go by was both embarrassing and depressing. My mental health, never the best, went rapidly downhill and my reaction was to eat and drink more and exercise less, a dreadful combination.
It’s been a long road back to some level of fitness and being able to get into my old clothes again and despite my successes, I still have a way to go. What doesn’t happen – and I’m really happy it doesn’t happen – is that people say, “Haven’t you ever lost weight?” in the same way as other people go to lengths to tell you what a fat bastard you are.
I know I should not be so thin-skinned about it and about most things I am not thin-skinned but people who can be so thoughtless and unkind have no place in my world. And when I return for this year’s Christmas concert, if the same person says, “You’ve lost weight!” I have been rehearsing my reply: “I do not give a fuck what you think. It’s none of your business.”
Now I am older, I know just how hard it is to keep the excess pounds at bay. I now eat and drink a fraction of what I once did and my exercise levels have vastly increased, which is not surprising since I have lost the equivalent of 17 bags of sugar in the last eight months. My blood pressure is much lower, my blood sugars are much better, I feel much better. But I know that this is nothing to shout or brag about. So many things can happen that can reverse the process, like an injury that renders me immobile or another lockdown where I am told to stay at home.
I wonder if some people say these things just to boost their own egos at the expense of others? In one case, the 10k bore, there was clear narcissism at work, a sneering superiority, a large element of “look at me, I’m wonderful – and you don’t“. Well, if they felt good about demeaning others, there’s nothing I can do to help them. They won’t be reading this blog because they’ll likely be looking in the mirror and admiring themselves. I’ll just stick with people who are kind, people who can tell me things I probably don’t want to hear, but in a way that reflects kindness and, yes, love. If others get off on making others miserable, I feel more pity for them than anger.
