Gluttony and sloth no excuse for fat shaming
THE humiliation of Andrew Burke Hannon for committing the sin of too-much-too-soon weight loss on Operation Transformation is reminiscent of the incident some years back when Dr Ciara Kelly berated a contestant for the opposite crime of binge-drinking during her diet. ‘I was disgusted to see you,’ she roared at the mortified woman in front of the nation.
That aside, there have been several other more low-key clashes over the years, where participants received severe dressing downs for their transgression.
It’s almost a cliché to say it, but in our society being overweight is so synonymous with the great vices of sloth and gluttony that people can feel free to speak about overweight people as if they are scum.
Singletons on dating shows get the redcarpet treatment as do those who contribute to the obesity epidemic by competing on Bake Off. But pitch up at the weighing scales in plus-sized lycra and you deserve what you get in the way of fat-shaming.
It sounds harsh but that’s what Andrew signed up for when he agreed to go along with Operation Transformation’s central conceit that it’s a lethal weapon in the nation’s fight against obesity, rather than investment in psychological or medical supports that are actually grounded in science.
Contestants allow themselves be used as leverage by experts (as judges are called on the show) who want to make their names and enhance the show’s notoriety.
It’s called showbiz.
BUT Andrew’s visible upset at the scolding by Karl Henry for disobeying the order not to lose any weight that week also resonates with anyone who has fought the good fight against the flab and been judged by trimmer friends and family negatively.
Going down a dress size may be acceptable but any more than that and you can find yourself on the receiving end of cautionary tales about how too much weight loss risks a prematurely aged and haggard facial appearance.
As the scales tip further towards zero, the green-eyed monster rears his head. Friends who fear they are about to lose their slimness crown suddenly start dropping hints about how some people just suit extra weight and that those who look best thin are just naturally slim. It’s all in the genes, they say.
The surveillance and judgement which Operation Transformation depends on for its entertainment value is so exhausting in real life that many slimmers avoid it by going into seclusion every time they diet.
One of my friends was uncontactable for months until she emerged triumphantly, like a butterfly from its chrysalis with the same svelte figure she had in college. Had she been subjected to the constant ‘advice’ of her circle, she’d still probably be counting her slimming world points.
According to a UCD study, one-third of the population gained weight during the first lockdown, predictable perhaps given the disruption to our routine, boredom and the rise of takeaways as our only reliable treat.
But others have used captivity to get into shape, devoting their free time to walking for miles and preparing healthy food. They shatter the myth of obesity symbolising greed and lack of resolve, while those of us who have gained the dreaded Covid stone, from Mary McAleese to President Macron who, it appears, is happy to pile on the pounds because it makes him ‘look more mature’ have punctured the idea of trim people being superior. Perhaps one of Covid’s legacies might be the appearance on Operation Transformation of habitually thin people who came a cropper during lockdown. It would be interesting to see if they are treated more respectfully than those who lumbered towards the scales before them.