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Chronic Illness & Medical Dismissal

Body Shaming, Weight Changes and Chronic Illness

Emily Foucault, centre, performing as a dancer in her early twenties.
Emily Foucault, centre, performing in her early twenties.

“You look amazing. Have you lost weight?”

People often intend that question as a compliment. For someone living with chronic illness, it can land very differently.

A smaller body may reflect pain, malabsorption, medication changes, surgery, depression, an inability to prepare or tolerate food, or the energy cost of simply getting through the day. Weight gain can carry its own medical, hormonal and treatment-related story. Neither change tells you whether a person is healthy.

When a body becomes public conversation

I grew up dancing. My body was visible, disciplined and evaluated, but for many years I felt confident in it. I worked hard, pushed through symptoms and assumed my body would keep cooperating if I demanded enough from it.

Chronic illness disrupted that certainty. My weight changed as my health changed, and other people noticed. Comments that were meant to celebrate one version of my body made it harder to talk honestly about what was happening inside it.

The praise created a strange split: I could look more acceptable to someone else while feeling considerably worse.

Weight is not a moral report card

Our culture often treats weight loss as evidence of discipline and weight gain as evidence of failure. That framing ignores biology, disability, access to care, medications, income, mental health and the many conditions that affect appetite, digestion, inflammation and energy.

It also encourages people to believe that another person’s body is available for assessment.

You cannot diagnose wellness by looking. You cannot know what a person did, or endured, to arrive at the body you see. And you cannot know whether attention to their weight will reinforce grief, shame or a struggle they have not chosen to disclose.

What to say instead

There are many ways to connect without evaluating someone’s size.

Tell them it is good to see them. Compliment their style, creativity, humour or energy. Ask how they are doing and be willing to hear an answer more complicated than “fine.” If someone chooses to talk about a body change, follow their language rather than assigning the change a positive or negative meaning.

The goal is not to make bodies forbidden topics. It is to let people retain ownership of their own stories.

Relearning respect for my body

My relationship with my body is no longer based on whether it can perform, look a certain way or keep pace with the person I used to be.

Some days, respect means nourishing it with what I can tolerate. Some days, it means resting. Sometimes it means grieving the ease I once took for granted. It also means refusing to treat a changing body as a personal failure.

My body has carried me through years of pain, uncertainty, advocacy and reinvention. It does not owe anyone a stable size to make that journey easier to understand.

Before commenting on another person’s weight, pause. There may be a story you cannot see, and kindness does not require you to know it.

Further reading

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