Last year, after I'd been losing weight steadily for 18 months and got down from BMI 59.5 to BMI 31 a neighbour stopped me in the street and to congratulate me on my weight loss before firmly telling me that I needed to stop now, because I was starting to "take it too far".
She's been a size 10 all her life. I had just managed to squeeze into a size 22 and was inordinately chuffed about it, after decades of being relegated to the few online shops selling sizes 32, 34 and 36.
She scornfully dismissed my claim that I was still obese, demanding to know who had filled my head with that nonsense. I explained how obesity was measured by body mass index to give a standardised measurement. My was 31.5 so that meant I was still officially obese, along with everyone else who had a BMI over 30, despite being far from the morbid obesity of my starting weight. She snorted scornfully, and repeated most emphatically that I needed to stop now because I was "already taking it too far". I was puzzled by her attitude, but the objective reality of BMI was enough to reassure me that I wasn't deluding myself.
This summer I was invited to a garden party at the home of the same woman, who'd been so keen on my stopping dieting when I was a size 22. At that point I was revelling in finally getting down to the UK average size 16, and enjoying the opportunity to wear a flattering new dress, that fit properly instead of sliding off and flapping in the breeze.
Another neighbour who I don't know very well did a double take when I arrived and blurted "I didn't recognise you! I've seen you walk past my window, and thought you must be new, you look completely different." Then the woman who'd told me a year earlier I was getting dangerously thin at size 22, chimed in to say how well I was looking and how much she admired my will power. Seemingly having completely forgotten about her dire warning from the year before.
I suspect her first reaction was due to the initial weight loss having caused my previously very well padded face to collapse into a mess of folds, jowls and deep wrinkles, with masses of lose skin dangling under my chin like wattles. A year later a lot of that skin has been reabsorbed, so I look much healthier, (with an actual jawline), and less like a Syd James tribute act with a crystal meth habit.