I’m worried about this entry. Why? Well, because it’s generally not a good idea for a writer to irritate or alienate a large portion of his or her audience. Yet, I’m fairly certain that this entry is going to do that. Read on, but please – hear me out.

This entry concerns success; more specifically, it concerns the massive, superlative success that I’ve had. (Are you irritated or alienated yet?) While I’m joking right now, I’m also being somewhat serious: I’m quite proud of how far I’ve come. But, as with anything, there are problems with success.

“Oh great,” I can hear you muttering. “This is where he gripes about how burdensome weight loss is, like some famous actor complaining about fame, or a professional athlete groaning about the pressure of playing sports for a living. What a crock.” No, I’m not going to go that far. I wouldn’t give up my weight loss for anything in the world, and it’s been an incredibly positive experience. However, it would be fair to say that it has caused me some problems that I never anticipated.

By far, the most grievous of these problems is an intense, nagging, gnawing, clawing, scraping and grating fear of failure. In fact, this fear is so great that I’m going to shove it down a little while longer, and talking about something else, instead. Lucky you!

Instead, I’m going to reveal the second-most prominent of the unexpected, negative consequences of weight loss: backhanded compliments and their cousin, “helpful advice.” What do I mean by backhanded compliments? These are compliments, offered to me regarding my weight loss, that are a bit more negative than they might at first appear. These comments always come from those who I have not seen in quite some time, at which time he or she will inevitably comment upon my weight. While it’s hard for me to be upset about this – obviously, I’m happy to be noticed as healthier and more energetic – most of these compliments are phrased in such a way that they call into question my self-worth, as it was just as little as a year and a half ago. By far, the most popular of these, usually exclaimed by abrasive, somewhat tactless middle-aged women, is: “You’re a shadow of your former self!”

Now, I’m probably just being sensitive, but when I hear this, I feel the need to fill in the rest of this statement: “You’re a shadow of your former self – which was a bloated, unsightly, terrifying gastric atrocity!” Heh. Great.

Interestingly enough, these kinds of tactless remarks come mostly from older people. When my peers hear of my weight loss, they’re typically supportive and interested, but never thoughtless. That seems to come mostly from older folks. Take, for example, my wife’s grandfather. He’s a typical grandfather: a jovial, friendly man who has a bit of an anxiety problem and is more than little meddlesome. There is never a doubt in my mind that his heart is in the right place, and yet our relationship has always consisted of me wondering exactly what’s coming next, even from the very beginning. Like most older people – especially family members – Amy’s grandfather’s quirks regarding my weight loss manifest themselves as “helpful advice.” This helpful advice is typically anything but. Case in point: in March of 2005, we threw Amy’s grandparents an anniversary party. In retrospect, I can recognize this situation as the perfect breeding ground for backhanded compliments and “helpful advice”: there was plenty of food, lots of family, a bit of mingling, and a few too many beers.

As I felt free to do so – this being a party, after all – I began enjoying some of the very delicious food that people had prepared. Almost immediately, I heard an aged, helpful voice from over my shoulder: “Now, be careful with that, Andy.” As soon as he said it, he walked away.

What?

Amy was mortified, and I was simultaneously amused, flustered and irritated. But, I wasn’t ashamed (just yet), and so I didn’t pay it any mind. Unfortunately, throughout the afternoon as the beer flowed, the proximity between Amy’s grandfather and I widened even while the comments continued. By the time we were cutting the cake, I heard the words, “Now, Andy!” practically shouted from the other room. Disgusted, I walked into the kitchen and tossed the cake in the trash.

Reading this again, I hope that it doesn’t sound too harsh. I want to make it clear that I’m grateful for positive attention. Christ, look at me! I’m blogging about it; obviously, I’m interested in the attention. The vast majority of people I talk to about this are kind, thoughtful and supportive. Even the people I’ve mentioned have their hearts in the right place. But all of this doesn’t change the fact that people occasionally act like jackasses. That’s why I’m warning you: even if you achieve all your goals and you feel genuinely happier, nothing is ever perfect. Be ready to accept that. Weight loss and fitness can fix a lot of things, improve confidence, and even – heh, scratch that, I’d better not divulge that secret until later on.

The point is, weight loss is great, but it’s not a cure for everything. You still need to remember to be mindful, (somewhat) humble, and thankful for the positive people around you. Oh, and the most important lesson? Don’t let anybody badger you into throwing cake away. Because that shit is tasty. And life’s too short.