How People Around the World Reframed Losing Weight as a Moral Issue Rather Than a Financial One

That’s how long even a brief gym session takes for me, from packing my bag to getting there and back, exercising, and the much-needed post-gym shower.

The reason I can carve out time for gym sessions is not— as fitness aficionados may tell you—because I am driven or because I have discipline. I am not a morally superior person because I do it.

It’s because I am fortunate.

I’m a white, middle-class, childless lady who works for myself in a Western nation.

If I worked two jobs, had children, and only had enough time in the evening to bang ramen noodles on the table and call it supper, I would find it hard to concentrate on my weight goals too.

This is something I’ve thought about a lot during my treadmill and kettlebell sessions. That, despite what the world tells you, your ability to lose weight is not based on how excellent you and your discipline levels are.

It’s more about how privileged you are.

And if weight is a wealth issue, why do we continue to treat it as a moral one?

I blame hustle culture.

Losing weight feeds into one of society’s most favorite narratives.

Hard work = success.

Call it a Puritan work ethic—or indeed hustle culture—but we love it when people’s hard work garners results.

And make no mistake, losing weight is really hard work. It occupies an obscene amount of brain space. Meal prepping. Exercising. Willing yourself not to buy that packet of cookies and eat them all in front of the new Bridgerton series.

So it’s easy to praise people who manage to lose weight and judge those who don’t. We assume it’s down to motivation levels more than anything else.

After all, there’s a reason why we consider people who are overweight lazy or unintelligent. It’s because we’ve been taught that if you’re fat, it’s your fault.

Except it’s not that simple. There are so many more forces at work against losing weight, your socio-economic status being high up the list.

It will come as little surprise that there is a strong link between obesity and poverty. Food deserts aren’t exactly known for their fresh produce—the clue is in the name.

The link between wealth and weight starts before you are even born. If your parents went to college, you are more likely to eat healthier.

Growing up, wealthier kids are more likely to enjoy the taste of healthier foods because their parents can budget for the wastage that is part and parcel of the trying-it-out phase.

Few kids like broccoli the first time they try it.

And as adults, your wealth status has a big effect on your weight. It’s not exactly a secret that healthy foods are more expensive and take more time to prepare and cook.

It’s why Tradwife content looks so alien to so many of us. The thought of having enough time in the day to make fruit loops from scratch is laughable to most people. People who—even those not on the lowest rung of the poverty ladder—are already stretched thin just by keeping themselves and their families alive.

This is especially true for women who not only take on the lion’s share of domestic labor and childcare but are also far more likely to feel pressure to stay or become thin.

The idea that weight loss is a moral issue drastically undermines the real issues preventing people from losing weight.

How can you walk more if you live in a neighborhood where it’s unsafe to walk? When decent running sneakers cost north of $100, yet you can’t make rent? When you’re at home looking after the kids after working two jobs?

Having weight loss tools at your disposal, like gym memberships, healthy food, and time—even Ozempic—doesn't make you a morally superior person. It just makes you a privileged one.

Which is why judging people with excess weight feels a little bit more than sanctimonious. A way to pass the blame from the system to the individual, as if no other forces other than willpower could possibly influence your ability to lose weight.

It’s simply not true.

The sooner we understand and accept that how much you earn influences what you weigh, the sooner we can truly appreciate that if you need to lose weight, it isn’t as simple as eat less, move more.

Because what if you can’t afford to?

Blame the system, not the individual.

Solving problems like the poverty-obesity equation is too much for one article. This is a systematic issue that requires massive governmental and societal change and intervention.

All we can do as individuals is improve our language and attitudes towards people’s weight.

When I told friends and family I was looking to lose weight, I sensed their relief that finally I was doing something about my gains. In some cases, they felt so happy about it, they thought it appropriate to say, “I’d noticed you’ve gotten a bit chubby, so good for you!”

They were doing exactly what I’ve argued here—equating losing weight with moral superiority. They were telling me I was a better person for going to the gym. Which, of course, does little more than make me feel like a failure when the scales don’t go down quickly enough or even at all.

Like I say. I’m privileged enough to have the time and money to address my weight, and it’s still hard. It’s even harder for those who aren’t.

Our moral judgments help no one in this situation. Sanctimoniously telling someone who has kids, jobs, and barely enough money to pay the bills to “just go on a quick run, it’s easy and free!” is only going to make them feel worse for a situation they are barely in control of as it is.

I’m a big fan of blaming the system, not the individual, yet when it comes to weight loss, we’re incredibly guilty of portioning our blame to the latter.

Doctors tell you that you should eat less and move more—even if you’re disabled.

We believe obesity is a choice.

And according to this study, social media is particularly partial to the “it’s your fault if you’re obese” narrative. Or put another way:

The dominant themes in obesity-related media reports focus on individual diet and physical activity choices and less frequently on the complex interactions of biology, society, and environmental factors that contribute to obesity.

Like financial means.

Compassion goes a long way here. Understanding that when it comes to weight loss, there are wider issues than individual motivation. That the system plays more of a part than we’re often prepared to admit.

There’s a mirror in my gym—the one in the header image—that says As desculpas não queimam calorias, which is Portuguese for excuses don’t burn calories.

That’s true, but neither does the systematic breakdown of access to healthy food or the luxury of time to actually get to the gym.

I guess my version is a little bit less catchy. But when it comes to losing weight, it’s probably more accurate.

To have weight loss tools at your disposal—and the time to actually use them—has less to do with how morally good you are and more to do with your financial status. If you can afford fresh fruit and vegetables, gym memberships, or running sneakers that don’t cause expensive knee issues down the line, you are doing better than many.

It’s time we stop with the individual blame and think bigger. Think more compassionately.

And realize the true reason why losing weight is so damn hard.

Because it’s not just about cookies and willpower.