Angela Mollard: Why ‘fat’ is now the biggest F-bomb

We are all tiptoing around the subject of weight in fear of being thrust into a culture war, but our reluctance to offend comes at the cost of the sense of community that encourages us adopt healthier habits, writes Angela Mollard.

A friend is in a quandary.

“Can I tell my husband he’s fat?” she asks me.

“Is he, er, fat,” I ask, wary already because it seems we no longer use the “f” word.

“Yes, he’s gone from Dad Bod to Tellytubby in six months,” she says, as we pound the pavement. “I adore him but I loathe the feel of his tummy when we’re having sex.”

Yikes. I’m all for crowdsourcing a solution to a problem but I don’t want to picture my friend’s husband in this state.

As celebs such as Opera increasingly use medication to slim down, the extra weight that many of us carry becomes more obvious. Picture: Getty Images

“Does he think he’s fat?” I ask.

“Of course, he does,” she says. “But he’s so comfortable in his own skin he’s not the least bit bothered.”

That’s kinda nice, I point out.

She agrees it is nice and that she doesn’t want to change him but as they’re now in their 50s she’s looking ahead to their joint retirement.

“As much as I don’t like seeing his stomach poking through his shirt buttons, I’m more concerned that he could die of a heart attack just when we’re finally free to walk the Fife coastal path.”

She tells me the five-day walk is in Scotland and it boasts seals and lighthouses and prehistoric caves. It also passes several iconic golf courses.

“Oh, that’s good,” I say. “They’ll all have defibrillators.”

And then we move on to discussing our own summer weight gain, which is much safer territory because there is nothing more self-flagellating than a middle-aged menopausal woman bemoaning her post-Christmas paunch.

It’s worse now, I ponder, because a little festive fattening stands out more than it used to. Ozempic has melted so many obese people down to skinny, hollow-cheeked versions of their former self that your garden-variety chubster is suddenly more noticeable. In the past you could let your weight bracket creep knowing there were others bulkier than you.

But I don’t say this because we can’t say a lot of things about fat.

The trouble with the “f” word is two-fold. Some are so obsessed with their physique they neglect to enjoy their lives while others ignore or underplay their weight gain even when it’s clearly impacting their health.

A GP friend tells me it’s a minefield knowing what approach to take with patients.

But more than that the body positivity movement, while welcome and needed, has paralysed all discussions about fat.

You can no longer comment on your body, much less anyone else’s, and so we all tiptoe round the subject for fear of being thrust into a culture war.

Yet the politicisation of fat is driving the subject underground. In our fear of offending, we strip society of the community and collegiality that we know aids behaviour change.

Surely, we’re all just human beings trying to be healthy and looking out for each other?

But fat chat in 2024 is a minefield.

As my daughters point out, their generation do not discuss it.

I’ve become so indoctrinated into their Gen Z logic that when a friend from my book club lost a considerable amount of weight, I hesitated saying anything.

Instead, after a two-hour lunch where no-one made mention of it, I remarked that she looked happy.

Turns out she’d lost 10kg through healthy eating and exercise and far from being offended, she was thrilled when people commented on her appearance.

“After all that hard work, I thought no one had noticed,” she said, slightly miffed.

One of the trainers at my gym has written a brilliant book about the eight “E’s of equilibrium”, one of which is eating, obviously.

David Lee, who has great tips like brushing your teeth immediately after dinner so you don’t keep eating, says we should champion our friends when they embark on a healthier lifestyle.

“Weight loss is a tough journey quite often taken alone. Anyone who knew your ‘old you’ should applaud and acknowledge the ‘new you’,” he writes, warning that friends can also sabotage your attempts to raise your game because it challenges them to lift theirs.

I like chewing the fat on fat because it keeps me accountable.

When David tells our boot camp class that we shouldn’t back up our AFDs (alcohol free days) with a DFA (Drinking For Australia) day, it’s a pithy reminder that consistency counts. I’m also loving my colleague Sarah Di Lorenzo’s health tips on Instagram.

Yet, as my friend with the chubby but happy husband points out, the secrecy around Ozempic is further shutting down the conversation around weight.

Whereas Jenny Craig, now defunct, and Weight Watchers were anchored in community, most users of the fat-busting injections are a clandestine society.

My mate likes the openness displayed by Oprah Winfrey, who recently admitted she uses weight-loss medications and British PM Rishi Sunak, who revealed this week that he fasts from 5pm on Sunday until 5am Tuesday.

“Why don’t you suggest that to your husband,” I suggest.

Ha, she says, pointing out that he doesn’t have the willpower and she’d be better off waiting until Ozempic is released in ingestible form and she can secretly lace his morning coffee. Cripes, remind me not to eat her beef Wellington.

Originally published as Angela Mollard: Why ‘fat’ is now the biggest F-bomb