I recently found myself, for once, on the unexpected side of an argument over how words can hurt people. In this case, the allegedly offensive word was “congratulations,” one that normally elicits a feeling of pride and joy: “Is it PC these days to congratulate someone on losing weight?” I heard someone ask me.
It’s encouraging to me that as a society we’ve become more aware of how we talk about weight. The phrase “the battle of the bulge” seems to have been largely retired as a weight metaphor, thank God, and hopefully, A-list actresses wearing fat suits in movies soon will go the way of the dodo bird. It’s important that we don’t deem thinness the default universal ideal. Body shaming does damage, and we don’t want anyone to feel they have to be a certain size to be valuable and happy.
All that said, when someone burns off pounds through determination and hard work, how loaded can “Congratulations” be? Having it called out made me think about all the ways we’ve tweaked our language to minimize the risk of offending people. In theory, it’s a move in the right direction (I’d rather not return to the days of “homo,” “Indians,” “Oriental,” and “colored”), but it’s easy to go overboard. When you think about it, there are few things we can say during the course of any day that cannot be construed as being hurtful to the feelings of someone somewhere.
If we were to put all our conversations under a microscope to determine whether someone somewhere might be offended, the list of applaudable achievements would start to dwindle. Once we start stifling our joy over reaching a weight goal while refusing praise for it, presumably out of respect for overweight people, what’s next? We might have to stop congratulating friends who get engaged or married because there are still so many sad and lonely people out there, and those shouldn’t be life goals anyway. And while we’re at it, no more congrats for expectant parents. Not everyone can be so fortunate, and it shouldn’t be the sole purpose in life.
I learned a long time ago that any accomplishment I achieve or good luck that falls on me might make someone feel bad about their own lot in life. That, however, has never stopped me from doing my happy dance. Even if you can’t dance, losing weight for an unimpeachable reason — to improve health, not to conform to society’s body rules — is always a reason to celebrate.
Only a person who hasn’t waged a lifetime battle with pounds would seriously question whether congratulations are in order. Anyone who has experienced the frustration of struggling with weight, especially when it gets to the point where those extra pounds become life-limiting and/or life-threatening, also understands the incredible effort that goes into losing them. As a former fat kid whose siblings alternately called me “fat pig,” “fatso,” “leviathan,” and “tight wad” (because my clothes were always too tight) when we argued, I get it.
If we can congratulate a long-distance runner for making it across the finish line, we can extend the same reaction to someone for losing 100 pounds. The latter takes a lot more work.
Most of us have noticed how amazing Adele looks since dropping 100 pounds. If we run into her, are we allowed to congratulate her? Or is that something we’re allowed to do only when the PC police isn’t listening?
Why can’t we celebrate a woman like Lizzo, who is proud of her curves and refuses to cater to status-quo weight expectations, while applauding ones like Adele and Rebel Wilson, another formerly overweight female celebrity who has transformed her body for the healthier. Congratulating Adele and Wilson doesn’t diminish larger women who are happy with their weight or place any unreasonable diet demands on them.
I consider myself to be a thoughtful, forward-thinking person who tries to use language respectfully. I make an effort to get people’s pronouns right and avoid antiquated jargon to refer to minority groups, but I refuse to worry about whether life on other planets object to be being called “aliens,” and I won’t stop celebrating the progress of people who set out to lose weight to look good and feel better.
That includes myself. I gained around 30 pounds of extra pandemic weight that began to interfere with my health, and I’m thrilled to be getting my pre-pandemic body back. I’ve worked hard to get here, and my blood pressure and my resting heart rate are thankful. So if you see me on the street rocking an outfit I used to wear two years ago that I can once again fit into, feel free to congratulate me on a job well done.