The addiction of weight loss

I’ve hesitated to write about this thorny subject. At the end of one commercial, the actor says something to the effect of, “And I also lost some weight!” As a person in recovery from an eating disorder (ED), that statement grabbed my attention. I feared that the word “weight” would be the one thing people would focus on, and they have.

Almost overnight, many people began using the drug, originally intended to assist people with Type 2 diabetes, solely to lose weight. Concerns arose that there would be a shortage of the drug for people with Type 2 diabetes. Increasingly, variations of the drug have become available, primarily for weight loss, and the trend continues to explode.

A downside to taking this drug is that once a person stops taking it, they regain the weight they lost.

The drug can also be expensive if not covered by insurance. Intentional weight loss of any kind is not sustainable in most cases, and this weight loss method concerns me. 

I am neither a physician nor a pharmacist, and I am not an expert in this field. From what I understand, the drugs are beneficial for patients with Type 2 diabetes. Besides helping to manage weight, they can lower high blood pressure and the risk of heart attack and stroke. According to the Mayo Clinic, the adverse side effects of such drugs are the same if taken for diabetes or weight loss, but for weight loss, the drug is usually taken at a higher dose.

While these drugs raise red flags in my mind, I’m not judging people who take them when responsibly prescribed by their doctor. That is not my place. What disturbs me the most, however, is society’s obsession with weight loss, which is actually an obsession with weight gain.

I’m concerned that these drugs may put pressure on “overweight” people to take them, because after all, doesn’t everyone want to lose weight? (No, they do not.) The people in the commercials appear so happy, as though their lives are infinitely better now that they are thinner. The commercials promote a belief that one cannot be satisfied unless they are thinner than one is right now.

The human body is a complex and miraculous entity. It also remains a mystery, despite the available scientific knowledge. While a correlation exists between health and weight, the causation is less clear.

Everybody is different in how they metabolise energy (calories).

To generalise that everyone is the same, so any weight loss method, whether it be medication or behavioural, is effective, is not true. There are many factors at work: genetics, trauma, and socioeconomic circumstances. Intentional weight loss often leads to weight cycling and additional weight gain. Nobody can predict if that will happen to them.

Everyone’s body has a set point for weight, which typically falls within a 10- to 20-pound range. With many people pursuing intentional weight loss, it’s challenging to accurately determine their natural set point.

Perhaps they are already within their set point range, but society is telling them they need to be smaller. This can lead to years of struggling with their bodies and weight fluctuations, which can eventually result in raising their set point. It can become a vicious cycle, one perpetuated by society and diet culture.

I’d be willing to bet that nearly 100 per cent of people considered “overweight” or “obese” have been on many diets and have lost weight many times. The cruel irony is that for most people, dieting is almost guaranteed to lead to weight gain. Then, after trying to “do the healthy thing”, these people are shamed and ridiculed for gaining weight.

I often wonder what our communities would be like if no one went on a diet to lose weight.

I once read somewhere about smoking and/substance abuse, that nobody truly knows if they will become addicted (or not), and nobody knows why. Is it a genetic predisposition, environmental or both?

People with a substance use disorder have said their first drink or first dose of heroin, for example, made them feel good for the first time in their lives. It would be a challenge not to become addicted to that feeling. Other stories tell of those who tried smoking, drinking, drugs, and either hated the way it made them feel or felt relatively neutral about it–they could take or leave it.

The issue becomes complicated and dangerous when people are unsure which group they belong to until they have their first experience. Tragically, in the case of drugs, too many people never know because they die as a result of that first time.

The cost of shame and judgment

Weight loss isn’t the same as substance addiction, but there are parallels, especially if the weight loss develops into an eating disorder. Not every person who diets develops an ED, but it’s fair to say that most people with an ED have dieted at some point in their lives. You don’t usually know if you’ll fall into the ED camp until it’s too late. That’s what happened to me.

Encouraging people to start using weight loss drugs to conform to society’s standard of thinness is problematic. How many people will develop EDs as their bodies shrink? Even if they “succeed” and achieve a “healthy” weight, how many will become addicted to the high they get from the compliments and validation, and continue to lose more weight?

What about the people who can no longer afford the medication, have adverse side effects, and have to stop taking it? How will the probable weight gain affect their health, biologically, psychologically and socially? It is a slippery slope, rife with cliffs and sinkholes.

The most troubling issue is the reason behind the proliferation of weight loss drugs in general, which is that weight gain is to be avoided at all costs. This message causes people who exist in larger bodies, for any reason, to live in shame and judgment. That is not only wrong, it is tragic. Yes, we want people to be healthy, but it is possible to be healthy at any size. Nobody has the right to dictate a person’s weight.