Weighty matters: Why 140 pounds no longer haunts me

I will soon be 82, and my weight has been an issue since being diagnosed with chronic obstructive pulmonary disease (COPD). For most of my adult life, I weighed 113 pounds and was 5 feet, 1 inch tall. My doctor’s nurse quipped that if the scale didn’t say 113, she’d have the scales checked.

Then along came COPD, and my weight began to move downward. At one point, I weighed less than 100 pounds. Along with the weight loss came three pneumothoraxes, or lung collapses. My pulmonologist warned me that unless I gained weight, he feared that I wouldn’t be able to withstand another lung collapse, and that without the weight gain, I was probably going to have another.

At my current age, height, and weight of 140 pounds, I now sit squarely in the optimal age range for older adults. Though my pulmonologist did not cite any studies, I’m sure he was aware of the research findings. So why have I stressed over my weight?

The answer to that question is found in all the weight-loss plans that swirl daily through my social media feeds, on the computer and television, and in print advertisements. In this environment, we learn that thin is a virtue and that it is almost impossible to be too thin.

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The science of weight and health tells us that a low body mass index leads to an increased probability of death and more exacerbations in COPD. While direct studies are limited, clinical consensus supports that frailty and low body mass increase the risk of spontaneous lung collapse — especially in emphysematous lungs.

I’ve lived long enough to know that numbers lie, but they also linger. I’ve spent years measuring myself against a scale that didn’t account for breath, resilience, or recovery. Even now, when the science affirms my weight, the old scripts whisper: Less is better. Less is safer. Less is lovable.

But I am not less. I am more. I am much healthier.

It is not an indulgence to be 140 pounds. It’s adaptation. It’s the weight that holds me up — literally. It’s the difference between collapse and recovery, between breath and silence.

I no longer see the scale as a judge. I see it as a tool. A way to measure not just mass, but resilience. Not just calories, but care.

And if I still feel the pull of obsession, I meet it with compassion. I ask: What am I terrified of? What am I trying to protect?

Because the most crucial weight I carry isn’t on my hips — it’s in my lungs. In my will to live. In my choice to stay.

Note: COPD News Today is strictly a news and information website about the disease. It does not provide medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. This content is not intended to be a substitute for professional medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. Always seek the advice of your physician or other qualified health provider with any questions you may have regarding a medical condition. Never disregard professional medical advice or delay in seeking it because of something you have read on this website. The opinions expressed in this column are not those of COPD News Today or its parent company, Bionews, and are intended to spark discussion about issues pertaining to chronic obstructive pulmonary disease.