It’s not weak to submit to science, or to surrender, when your lived experience is confirmed by legitimate research. We inject insulin if diabetic. We take paracetamol if in pain. We treat physiological calamity with medicine.

I eventually got off the diet mill and the relentless diet trap when I was exposed to the “metabolic set point theory”. I happened upon a Ted Talk wherein the speaker was discussing this concept, and how our bodies tend to preserve and hanker for our highest weights, sending up cravings and compulsions in response to any attempt at reduction in size. This is in keeping with much of what we know about homeostasis, and resistance of change, whether emotional or physical. In short, humans want to be comfortable, and we are most comfortable when not challenged and not changing. It's why many-to-most of us can be “good” on a diet for the first 6-8 weeks, or 6-8 kilograms, and then all hell breaks loose.

With the right counsel relative to your unique situation, and with medical guidance from appropriate professionals, the decision to undergo weight loss surgery is simply an acceptance of what is. Not a weakness. Not cheating. In a world where only 5% of significantly obese people lose weight and maintain that loss for a reasonable period, there’s sense to stopping the bus, getting off, and trying a different solution.

Some think it’s cheating…

I don’t really understand the concept that weight loss surgery is “cheating”. Cheating what? And cheating whom? It’s been criticised as “the easy way out”, and, on one level, so what if it is?

But I take a slightly different view: I’m adamant that for many obese people, it’s not the easy way out. It’s the only way out. It’s the only way for many suffering people to have a shot at a different reality.

Many bariatric patients are quite offended at being told it was “easy”. They recount their stories of gruelling processes to be accepted onto bariatric programs, often having to lose up to 10% of their weight. Endless appointments with surgeons, dieticians, and psychologists. And then the actual procedures, which are serious operations with significant risks. Not to mention the struggles to adjust to post-surgery life, the shock to the system – physically and emotionally – and then of course the dawning reality in subsequent months that it remains a mental and psychological battle.

So, there’s offence to the flippant and somewhat ignorant statement that they took the easy way out. Especially for patients who were terrified of the surgery, and terrified of the great unknown on the other side of it.

I’ve worked with many pre-surgery patients who struggle with this. They feel that they are failing, or letting themselves down, surrendering to these procedures. “I should be able to do it myself”. I give them the advice that my surgeon gave me when I was initially consulting: try, try and try again, on your own. Satisfy yourself that you can, or satisfy yourself that you cannot. There remains 5% of the population who change their lives, their habits, and their minds, and maintain slim healthy bodies for life. 5%.

Satisfy yourself that you are not part of that  5%.

Or celebrate that you are.

And if the former position evokes shame, lean into that feeling and become curious about it. Let it be part of your bariatric experience, but also give yourself the gift of reading – of reading all about the truths of obesity as a multifaceted, multi-causal, recurring, relapsing disease.

Strangely, I never felt shame when booking my surgery. I just didn’t.

I felt immense relief, and a great sense of hope. I’ve written that story up here (Why I Had Weight Loss Surgery).

I’ve felt flickers of shame after the fact, especially when I did have dramatic, life-threatening complications. I did then think “was this worth it?”, “what did I do to myself?”, “what did I put my family through, for vanity?”. But not everything we think is true, and this is essential when on any journey.

It wasn’t a vanity-based decision.

It was, for me, self-rescuing after the culmination of numerous life events that sent me from ‘politely plump’ to what I called ‘obnoxiously obese’ (with the concurrent ‘set point’ working against me). I simply could not go on, on that trajectory, and science, and my own history, said I most likely would. It was bad for my health, my mental health, and for my prognosis as someone who wanted to contribute to society, and be present and connected to my life, the people I love, and my purposes. “Vanity” wasn’t a major factor, and that word is an internalisation of judgment that exists elsewhere in the world (“It’s the easy way out”; “You’re cheating”). 

One thing I’ve learnt, across the board, is that it’s critical to know our reasons, and like our reasons, when embarking on a pivotal life change.

The truth of it...

In short, my view is that bariatric surgery is not cheating. It’s simply a medical intervention that people can use to reduce their weight, in the short term. And that reduction is significant, because the surgeries tend to override the set point, and allow for dramatic losses without that physiological reaction of craving and compulsion and perseveration on food and eating, akin to diets the world over. But, as I’ve said and written, time and time again: this is all the surgery does. There comes a time, for all post-bariatric patients, that they need to go to war with their mindsets, habits, behaviours, and faulty thoughts. The initial loss is certainly quite ‘easy’. Long-term maintenance is as difficult as it ever was, with or without medical intervention. It really helps to not be full of shame, already, when that challenging time hits, often around 7 months post-procedure.