This post clearly comes from a place of personal reflection and empathy, but it contains several outdated and overly simplistic assumptions about body weight, health, and the nature of long-term weight regulation. While the author emphasizes that they’re not judging others, their framing of being “fat” as a “trap” reinforces a medicalized and moralized view of weight that doesn’t align with what we now understand from current research. Body fat is not inherently unhealthy; what matters far more are metabolic indicators, lifestyle, and psychological well-being. The notion that health can be reduced to a body fat percentage (10–20% for men, 15–25% for women) has been widely challenged by longitudinal studies showing that people classified as overweight by BMI often live as long—or longer—than those in the “normal” range.
The author writes as though sustained weight loss is a matter of difficult but straightforward lifestyle choices—sleep better, move more, eat clean. However, we now know that long-term weight regulation is biologically defended by the body. After weight loss, metabolic rate drops and hunger signals increase, making it difficult to maintain the new weight. This is not a matter of willpower, but of physiology. The success of GLP-1 receptor agonists like semaglutide further proves this point: the most effective interventions for significant weight loss target biology, not discipline. To say that most people can “get out of the fat trap” with a few months or years of effort severely underestimates the chronic, relapsing nature of obesity.
Moreover, the suggestion that aches, low energy, and poor sleep stem primarily from being fat is misleading. These symptoms can be caused by stress, overwork, inflammation, sleep disorders, depression, and poor nutrition—regardless of weight. The author’s framing implies that fat bodies are inherently dysfunctional, which not only ignores counterexamples (such as metabolically healthy fat individuals) but also contributes to the very stigma they claim to reject. In fact, weight stigma itself is a proven source of health harm, leading to increased cortisol, disordered eating, avoidance of medical care, and reduced physical activity.
To the author’s credit, the discussion of the mental and emotional dimensions of eating—especially the anxiety, guilt, and obsession around food—is insightful and compassionate. They are correct that healing from disordered eating patterns often involves therapy, mindfulness, and internal self-work, not just external changes. Their acknowledgement that body positivity and self-acceptance are vital steps is also important. Still, framing recovery as a journey out of the “fat trap” subtly undermines those same values, by implying that fatness itself is the problem to be escaped.
Ultimately, this post would be stronger if it embraced a more nuanced understanding of health at every size, acknowledged the role of genetics and biology in body weight, and moved away from binary thinking about “traps” and “freedom.” Compassion, flexibility, and science-based awareness are essential—not just for others, but for oneself. Weight is not a moral failure or a mental prison. It’s one part of a complex picture of health, identity, and lived experience.
This post clearly comes from a place of personal reflection and empathy, but it contains several outdated and overly simplistic assumptions about body weight, health, and the nature of long-term weight regulation. While the author emphasizes that they’re not judging others, their framing of being “fat” as a “trap” reinforces a medicalized and moralized view of weight that doesn’t align with what we now understand from current research. Body fat is not inherently unhealthy; what matters far more are metabolic indicators, lifestyle, and psychological well-being. The notion that health can be reduced to a body fat percentage (10–20% for men, 15–25% for women) has been widely challenged by longitudinal studies showing that people classified as overweight by BMI often live as long—or longer—than those in the “normal” range.
The author writes as though sustained weight loss is a matter of difficult but straightforward lifestyle choices—sleep better, move more, eat clean. However, we now know that long-term weight regulation is biologically defended by the body. After weight loss, metabolic rate drops and hunger signals increase, making it difficult to maintain the new weight. This is not a matter of willpower, but of physiology. The success of GLP-1 receptor agonists like semaglutide further proves this point: the most effective interventions for significant weight loss target biology, not discipline. To say that most people can “get out of the fat trap” with a few months or years of effort severely underestimates the chronic, relapsing nature of obesity.
Moreover, the suggestion that aches, low energy, and poor sleep stem primarily from being fat is misleading. These symptoms can be caused by stress, overwork, inflammation, sleep disorders, depression, and poor nutrition—regardless of weight. The author’s framing implies that fat bodies are inherently dysfunctional, which not only ignores counterexamples (such as metabolically healthy fat individuals) but also contributes to the very stigma they claim to reject. In fact, weight stigma itself is a proven source of health harm, leading to increased cortisol, disordered eating, avoidance of medical care, and reduced physical activity.
To the author’s credit, the discussion of the mental and emotional dimensions of eating—especially the anxiety, guilt, and obsession around food—is insightful and compassionate. They are correct that healing from disordered eating patterns often involves therapy, mindfulness, and internal self-work, not just external changes. Their acknowledgement that body positivity and self-acceptance are vital steps is also important. Still, framing recovery as a journey out of the “fat trap” subtly undermines those same values, by implying that fatness itself is the problem to be escaped.
Ultimately, this post would be stronger if it embraced a more nuanced understanding of health at every size, acknowledged the role of genetics and biology in body weight, and moved away from binary thinking about “traps” and “freedom.” Compassion, flexibility, and science-based awareness are essential—not just for others, but for oneself. Weight is not a moral failure or a mental prison. It’s one part of a complex picture of health, identity, and lived experience.