"Wow, You've Lost So Much Weight": Compliment?
Listen To This Week's NewsletterSpotify | AppleHey Reader! A couple weeks ago, I posted a video that I dubbed "Perimenopausal Cooking." It was meant to be a tongue-in-cheek recipe "how to" for kimchi jjigae, while also grousing about my recent experience with "the great change." Many women commented with solidarity and their own experiences with pre-menopause, often providing very thoughtful and honest advice about how to manage things like night sweats, earth shattering fatigue, and hot flashes. One comment I didn't expect, though, was this one: "Wow, I haven't seen you on my feed for a long time. I didn't recognize you at first. You've lost so much weight. I can tell by how skinny your face is. You've always been a marathon runner. What are you doing differently?" I was caught so off guard by this comment, I didn't know how to respond. Before I get into it, though... POLL TIME!!
As I've talked about ad nauseam, with the exception of the last 10 years, I literally cannot remember a time in my life when I was not told to lose weight. Starting from when I could remember, I was made to understand that my body was excessively "chubby" and that I would be so much more lovable if I could lose "just 10 pounds." The phrase "just 10 pounds" was a refrain in my life. Shopping for clothes at TJ Maxx, I'd hear it murmured at the clothing racks; when helping myself to a second bowl of rice, I'd hear it whispered at my back from the dinner table; and once, I was put on a call with my mother's work colleague, a woman who'd promised to help her daughter (me) lose those "just 10 pounds" once and for all. I imagined that on the other side of it lay a magical universe of opportunity, value, and self-confidence. If only I could figure out a way to shed myself of this scourge, this awful thing that was blocking my path towards success and love. But I failed. Like, big time. Not only did I never manage to lose those "just 10 pounds," in college, I gained another "just 35 pounds." I went from being "chubby, but cute" to plain old "fat." My body size became a regular topic of conversation in my family, so much so that an aunt I hadn't seen in awhile greeted me at the front door with "oh my goodness Sunyoung when did you get so fat?" So, I did what any normal person would do in that situation. I hit the panic button. Started eating only one meal a day and exercising 4 times a week. Within a few months, I'd lost a lot of weight. And my family was very pleased--my parents constantly complimented me on how much weight I'd lost, how good I looked. One afternoon, my uncle--a very reserved and taciturn man--came over to my parents' house to repair a few things (he was a contractor). I was running on the treadmill in the family room while watching TV. He finished up what he was working on and was about to walk out the front door when he paused, almost as if he was debating whether to say anything at all. Then, he turned around and yelled, so that I could hear him over the TV and treadmill, "Sunyoung--you look really good. Good job." Then, he turned around and proceeded out the door. Prior to that moment, my uncle had probably said a sum total of 17 words to me. As such, I was totally floored, elated, and, yes, proud. I was so proud that all the work I'd been putting in towards shrinking myself had elicited a comment from a man who never says anything, much less something as gratuitous as a compliment. Surely, this must mean that eating only one meal a day and spending hours on a treadmill was good, right? It was as good as the behavior that caused my aunt to say, "oh my goodness Sunyoung when did you get so fat?" was bad, right? Fast forward a year later: I could no longer sustain the "one meal a day and treadmill 4 times a week" diet plan and I gained all the weight back and then some. And you know which comment I shrank from? The one that caused me to stay up at night? Not the one from my aunt calling me fat. It was the one from my uncle. I could not stop wondering, if "skinny Joanne" was good enough to inspire admiration from this man, what did "fat Joanne" inspire from him? The implications embedded in my uncle's very well-intentioned compliment... they rebuked me. They tortured me. I would go to family functions assuming that my uncle, my aunts, my grandmother, my cousins, that all of them were thinking the same thing: "Tsk, tsk, tsk. Look at her. So weak. So disgusting. She couldn't keep it off." I said nothing in response to the comment on my Instagram. I thought, for a moment, about blaming it on the glasses I wore in the video--a trick I learned from one of my many plastic surgeons ("Clever," he'd said as he removed them from my face when I asked him to suck the fat out of my cheeks. "These make you look leaner.") But I didn't want to be dishonest. The truth was, yes, I'd lost some weight. Maybe a lot, maybe a little--I don't weigh myself, so I'm not quite sure how much. But, as I've talked about before, I'd undertaken rather drastic measures to make myself "presentable" in the lead up to the big Korea trip from earlier this summer. By "drastic measures," of course, I mean "toxic measures," I mean "unhealthy measures." I will leave it at that, so as to avoid triggering anyone struggling with eating disorders themselves. Twenty years ago, I would not have known that accepting a compliment of this nature would cost me; but sitting here today, after over a decade of therapy, I am well aware that saying "thank you," even internally, will carry me past the point of no return: it would mean that I endorsed the behavior that led to my smaller body and led to the "compliment." Hence, I cannot cash this check. It also meant that when my body inevitably changes, once more, when it grows a little larger as perimenopause continues to wreak havoc on my hormones or as my legs and feet simply grow too tired from all the miles they've eaten, I will owe a debt. And you know what they say about immigrant children: WE HATE DEBT. My therapist was always very careful to avoid reinforcing my disorder with anything that resembled a compliment that could somehow relate back to my size. She did, however, admit that I "have a lot of discipline, like superhuman levels of discipline." That's where things get tricky. There are many good qualities that can aid a person in bad behavior (e.g., the "evil genius"). I think many people, including some of my well-meaning friends, think they are complimenting me for my commitment and discipline when they say things like, "GIRL you are looking so SKINNY these days!!" And of course, how could they know that my discipline had been used in ways that might look "healthy" but were, in fact, quite damaging? For that matter, how could they know that my "skinny body" was not actually the result of some debilitating illness? Depression? Or Ozempic? Does that mean that talking about someone's body size is always off limits? No. If the person wants to talk about it, if they open the door to that conversation (sorry, lawyer coming out in me...) then it's clearly "within limits." In certain extremely rare circumstances when you have incontrovertible evidence that a person's size is directly related to a potential life or death illness, then it may make sense to broach a very tough conversation about a loved one's size. But even then, I would proceed with utmost caution and with the advice of a trusted medical professional. Other than that, I don't think the good intentions behind the "compliment" outweigh the risk of harm to the recipient. This is especially so when there are myriad of alternative ways to be more accurate with your kindness, to wit: "I think it's so cool that you've been running as long as you have. How'd you get started with marathon training?" "You always make your meals look so colorful and nutritious. Can you share the recipe for this kimchi jjigae?" "That shirt really brings out the olive notes in your complexion and I love it!" "Love the energy you're bringing!" According to a recent study, 14 million people struggle with disordered eating. Astonishingly, 22% of children and adolescents deal with disordered eating. Although I'm sure there are, indeed, people for whom "Wow! You lost so much weight!" would be a compliment, there's also a not-insignificant likelihood the same exact words could do harm. Just food for thought the next time you want to make a comment about someone's body.
This Week's Recipe Inspo. Vegan Kimchi Fried Rice
What I'm... Parting Thoughts. When Rudy died, my husband said something to me that I don't think I'll ever forget: "Your superpower is how much you feel everything." Looking back on all the ups and downs in my life, there were many times when I wished I could turn off the spigot, maybe knock back a few antidepressants and become a robot, even if only for a few hours. I needed a rest, not just from the world, but from myself, the constant throb of grief, guilt, helplessness, rage, love that seemed to vibrate inside of me, sometimes so violently, I wondered whether it might just be easier to bury myself in something cold and lifeless. A few days ago, while in the middle of shooting a cheeky video on how to make high-protein Korean BBQ sandwiches, I checked my Instagram messages. Believe it or not, I do try to read as many of them as possible and often spend chunks of my day responding to as many of them as I can. This one, though, left me speechless. The person attacked me, called me a proponent of genocide because of my published intention to vote a certain way this November. They then proceeded to come at me where it hurt--my stories. They accused me of being false, the worst kind of charlatan--peddling the stories of my family and my life to manufacture an image that fed my ego, when, in actuality, I cared nothing for the values my stories purported to encourage. It was a personal attack, one that was designed to make me feel small and ashamed. It was also meant to silence me. For the past 10 months, I have received tens of thousands of messages and comments like these. There have now been multiple videos made about me, one with over a million views, on how I am a "fake Korean" for failing to speak more frequently on specific political issues, for failing to raise more money for the people of Gaza, for being loyal to those who have proven themselves to me as friends who align with my values. I have been accused of being a "shill" because as much as I care for those suffering in the Middle East, I also care about the safety and wellbeing of women, the queer community, the Black American community, and of course, my own community, my own parents--whose safety was directly jeopardized as a result of the xenophobia stoked by a man I will now employ my right as an American to reject. I am empathetic to those who disagree with me. I can understand the pain and rage that might direct your vote elsewhere. But coming at me in this way, making it so personal and ugly... Well, let's call it what it is: Voter suppression. I know NONE of you reading this newsletter (especially those who make it to the Parting Thoughts every week) are engaging in this type of behavior. But perhaps some or many of you are also struggling with those who would try to silence you. Maybe not on a political issue, but in other areas of your life where your values are manifest, where your heart is on your sleeve. I have no words of wisdom for you this week. Only words of solidarity. I'm here, too. In the trenches. With you. Ready, willing, and able to fight that good fight with you. Wishing you all the best,
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