“It Takes So Much Effort”

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Although I’ve heard it countless times over 25 years in the weight loss business, it was a recent repeat of the statement – “It takes so much effort” – that prompted me to ask the client, “Why are so many smart people so stupid?”

It takes effort to achieve success at anything as well as to maintain success.

It takes effort to overcome an addiction (alcohol, drugs, gambling, cigarettes, food) as well as to maintain sobriety.

It takes effort to build a house as well as to maintain it to improve upon or retain its value.

It takes effort to build and nurture loving and trusting relationships with spouses and friends as well as to work at them every day to maintain them.

On the other hand . . .

It takes absolutely ZERO effort to become fat . . . and to keep expanding. NONE. You can eat and drink what you want, when you want, as much as you want. No restrictions necessary.

If “it takes so much effort” is what stops you from even starting, you are admitting that it takes NO effort by YOU to be fat.

But what about the effort it will take for your kids, young or old, to get over the loss of a parent, or your spouse the loss of a spouse, or your parents the loss of their child? And by “loss” I don’t necessarily mean death; “loss” can be your severe incapacitation due to obesity-related medical issues and physical limitations. “Loss” can be your disengagement from the daily activities and events in their lives.

What about the effort it might take your spouse to take out a second mortgage or bank loan or be forced to take a second job to make up for the loss of your income to keep up with your kids’ tuition or, in general, the quality of life to which they are accustomed?

What about the effort it will take your doctor, your nurses, your kids who become your caregivers, to lift you, clean you, feed you, push you in a wheelchair you never planned to sit in at 48 . . . or 58 . . . or 68?

What about the effort your friends stop offering because they’re tired of watching you choose the same fork in the road every single day and always turn left toward the drive-thru?

And what about the effort you’ll never get to give your grandchildren — the hikes, the dances at weddings, the piggy-back rides — because your knees quit ten years before you did?

You’re right. It DOES take effort to lose weight and get healthy.

It takes effort to plan meals when scrolling Uber Eats is easier.

It takes effort to walk past the bakery when the smell is calling your name.

It takes effort to go to bed instead of opening the fridge at 11 p.m.

It takes effort to lift weights when the couch is right there. It takes effort to drink water when wine is celebrating another “hard day.”

But here’s the part no one says out loud:

That effort is finite. It gets smaller every single week you stick with it. The habits that feel like climbing Everest in the beginning eventually feel like tying your shoes.

The effort of staying obese? That one is infinite. It grows every year. It compounds. It never gets easier; it only gets heavier — literally and figuratively.

So when you say, “It takes so much effort,” what you’re really saying is: “I have decided that the temporary effort of changing is bigger than the permanent effort of staying sick, tired, and ashamed.”

That’s your choice. Own it.

Or . . . decide the opposite.

Decide that your kids are worth 30 minutes of meal prep.

Decide that your spouse deserves the partner they married, not a roommate they have to care for.

Decide that you still have mountains to climb, literally or figuratively, and you’re tired of watching from the car.

The effort is real. But the cost of “no effort” is catastrophic.

You already know which one is harder in the long run.

The only question left is which effort you’re willing to give.

I’m here when you’re ready to choose the one that gives you your life back.