Losing weight is supposed to be a personal win, but for a lot of Black women, it can turn into a public debate. In a conversation sparked by Instagram creator thetreasureshow, Aba N Preach unpack how a weight loss journey can bring side-eye, backhanded compliments, and even friendship fallout. The core tension is simple: people praise the look they prefer, then criticize the moment health becomes the priority.
A Black woman shares that people criticized her weight loss, even though she says she was medically obese at 5’6″ and 200 pounds.
The pushback often centers on curves, with “thickness” treated like it outranks long-term health.
The conversation touches body positivity’s upside (less shame) and its downside (denial, “toxic positivity,” and enabling).
Commenters raise real health risks, including hypertension, strokes at younger ages, and rising type 2 diabetes rates.
Weight loss can also change friendships, because routines shift and insecurities surface.
When weight loss gets treated like betrayal
The creator at the center of the discussion says she posts her transformation to motivate other women, then gets hit with comments that don’t even try to hide the judgment. The vibe isn’t, “Congrats.” It’s more like, “Why did you change yourself?” mixed with the kind of praise that quietly implies she was “fine” before, so she shouldn’t have touched anything.
Her specifics matter. She describes being 5’6″ and 200 pounds, and calls it what it was for her: obese, unhealthy, and uncomfortable. Even then, she says her shape “passed” socially because she was bottom-heavy with a smaller top. In other words, the silhouette got prioritized over the reality.
That’s where her frustration lands: in her view, parts of the Black community can treat curves like a health exemption, as if a big butt automatically cancels out risk. She uses a blunt, relatable image to explain how close she felt to the edge, saying she was basically “a hamburger away” from her stomach pushing over the line, forcing wardrobe changes and constant discomfort.
Aba N Preach largely agree with her framing. They don’t treat it like a “preferences” argument. They treat it like a messaging problem: when the loudest feedback is about body shape, people start confusing what’s celebrated with what’s safe.
When looks get treated like the scorecard, health becomes a side quest people don’t take seriously until the bill comes due.
Why curves can get treated as “proof” you’re fine
The idealized, sexualized image comes with a price tag
The creator calls out an “idealized” and “sexualized” expectation placed on Black women, especially around having an extremely large butt. The frustration isn’t that curves are bad. It’s that the standard can get so extreme that it normalizes unhealthy weight, then shames anyone who opts out.
Aba N Preach react like they’ve seen the pattern up close. The tone is less outrage, more recognition: she’s saying the quiet part out loud. When a community heavily rewards one body type, the incentives don’t stop at fashion. They creep into what people defend, excuse, and deny.
They also point out how this pressure can slide into fetish territory, where people talk about Black women’s bodies like a menu item, not a human being with joints, organs, and a future.
It’s not exclusive to Black women, but it hits differently here
They acknowledge you can hear versions of this in other groups too. Still, they argue the “eat a sandwich” type commentary shows up in a sharper way in Black spaces, where thinness can get read as weakness, or as abandoning what’s culturally desired.
One of the more telling moments is the creator saying someone told her that after weight loss, she must be trying to attract white men. That’s not just rude, it’s strategic in a weird way. It tries to police her choices by attaching them to loyalty and identity, as if her body is a community billboard.
The underlying message is: keep the curves for the audience, even if the body carrying them is struggling.
Body positivity, celebrity examples, and the age reality check
The conversation also takes aim at how “body positivity” can get used. Not as self-respect, but as a shield against any honest talk about health. Aba N Preach bring up Lizzo as an example of how public narratives shift, and mention Mo’Nique, noting she once had a comedy bit about “skinny” women and later lost weight herself.
Their point isn’t that body positivity is worthless. It’s that the slogan can start falling apart around real-life timelines. They argue it feels easier to celebrate “I’m fine as is” in your 20s, but the body keeps receipts. By 30 or 40, long-term stress can show up fast, especially if someone has been carrying extra weight for years.
They also make a distinction that’s easy to ignore online: the load isn’t only about knees and ankles. It’s internal too. They talk about fat around organs, and how you can’t aesthetic-filter your way out of biology.
That’s where their “future prognosis” argument comes in. Even if someone feels okay now, they suggest asking the hard question: will this still work in your 50s and 60s, with mobility intact?
The health stakes are not abstract, they’re already here
In the comments they read, a doctor warns that Black women are having strokes in their 30s more than ever, and that many don’t know they have high blood pressure until something serious happens. The video also ties obesity to a broader family pattern, saying children are becoming more obese than their mothers, and that type 2 diabetes is rising.
Aba N Preach don’t treat that as random fear-mongering. They connect it to what’s observable: diet patterns, community norms, and the way denial spreads faster than lab results.
For grounding beyond the conversation, public health reporting backs the broader point that obesity remains a major issue in the US. For example, the CDC tracks adult obesity and severe obesity prevalence over time in its data briefs, including the most recent updates in CDC obesity prevalence reporting (NCHS Data Brief No. 508).
At the same time, the stroke and hypertension angle has gotten sharper focus. The American Heart Association has reported research highlights indicating that Black women who develop high blood pressure early may face significantly higher stroke risk. See AHA research highlights on blood pressure and stroke risk.
The key thing the video keeps returning to is timing. Health consequences don’t always show up right away, which makes aesthetics feel “real” and risk feel imaginary. That mismatch is exactly why people stay stuck until something forces the issue.
The BMI debate: fair critique, risky excuse
A counterpoint raised in the discussion is one you’ll see a lot online: BMI was built on European standards, so it can misread Black women’s body types. As a concept, that critique has merit, and Aba N Preach grant that there’s a range where BMI gets over-applied.
They also argue people use that talking point too conveniently. In their view, “don’t go off the scale” becomes “don’t question anything,” which turns into a permission slip to ignore pain, limited movement, or warning signs.
The video repeatedly recommends a better anchor than just weight: bloodwork, heart health, and how your body feels day to day. For readers who want a deeper explainer of BMI’s limitations and why it may misclassify some people, here’s a mainstream overview: Healthline’s guide to BMI accuracy for Black women.
A practical way to frame the debate is separating useful nuance from denial. Here’s the difference the conversation is really pointing at:
Topic
Helpful nuance
Unhelpful spin
BMI limits
BMI isn’t the whole story, so use multiple measures
BMI is flawed, so nothing counts
“Healthy at any size” tone
Don’t shame people, support sustainable change
Don’t change, and don’t mention risks
Community support
Encourage confidence during the process
Treat change as betrayal
Their broader message is pretty plain: check the receipts on your health, not just the comments under your photo.
Losing friends after losing weight isn’t rare, it’s patterned
The title theme lands when they talk about a story many women have shared: after losing weight, they lost friends too. Aba N Preach don’t frame it as pure jealousy, but they do name the dynamic. When one person changes, the group routine gets exposed.
Weight loss often requires a different schedule, different food choices, more sleep, and time at the gym. Even if nobody says it out loud, that shift can feel like a silent critique of everyone else’s habits. Add insecurity, and it can turn petty fast.
They describe the unspoken comparison game that can happen in friend groups: “I can’t hang with her because now I’m the ugly one.” It’s blunt, but it captures the emotional math. If a friendship is built on sameness, growth can feel like abandonment.
The creator’s “white men” comment fits here too. When people can’t argue with your health goals, they’ll try to reframe your motivation as validation-seeking. It’s a way to take control of your narrative without having to confront their own.
When “you look good” becomes a trap: real pain, real choices
One of the smartest pivots in the video is when they widen the lens beyond weight and talk about other body decisions people judge too quickly. Aba N Preach share an example about a woman considering a breast reduction. The initial reaction is basically, “Why would anyone do that?” until the health reality shows up: back pain, difficulty running, daily discomfort, even concern about spinal issues.
That moment becomes the point. Outsiders often argue for what looks best, because they don’t have to live in the body.
They connect that to their own health choice: Invisalign, not for aesthetics, but to avoid a worse health outcome later. The punchline is simple and effective. The orthodontist didn’t need a sales pitch, just two words: “your health.” That line lands because it resets the hierarchy.
They also mention a comment from someone older who lost significant weight because their back hurt, and life improved afterward. The video’s take is refreshingly unsentimental: they don’t care if someone lost curves in the process, because the goal is staying alive and functional.
The extreme end: risky procedures and the “rap video” silhouette
The conversation also touches on the cosmetic-surgery era, including stories of people getting experimental butt injections in unsafe settings. Aba N Preach frame it as a symptom of incentives, not just vanity. If a certain look gets rewarded online, some people will chase it fast, even when the risk is obvious.
They also call out the irony of the “women do it for themselves” line when the end result keeps mirroring what men cheer for in music videos. They don’t deny agency, but they question the environment. If every algorithm rewards the same shape, independence starts looking a lot like compliance.
At the same time, they acknowledge a fair cultural backdrop: there was a period when curvier figures were treated as “less than,” so celebrating them felt like overdue correction. The issue is the swing to extremes, where support turns into pressure and pressure turns into harm.
Support without lies: the version of body positivity that actually works
Near the end, Aba N Preach offer a calibrated definition of “good” body positivity. It’s not self-hate as motivation. It’s also not pretending nothing needs to change.
They argue it’s healthy to say: I don’t like where I am, I want to improve, and I’m still going to respect myself while I do it. Progress can be slow. It can stall. It can restart. What matters is that people don’t get bullied into staying stuck just to protect someone else’s comfort.
They also call out the social script that sounds kind, but isn’t: “Don’t change, you’re good.” Sometimes that’s love. Other times it’s fear, projection, or a desire to keep the group dynamics unchanged.
Where to follow Aba N Preach (and related platforms)
If your community praises a body type louder than it protects people’s health, the feedback will get weird the moment someone changes. That’s the real story here, not a before-and-after photo. The video’s most useful insight is also the simplest: you can support people without shaming them, but you also shouldn’t sell comfort as a substitute for health. If you’ve seen this play out in your own circle, the question is worth sitting with, what’s being celebrated, and what’s being avoided?
By Petty Pablo | Lead Social Analyst The internet remembers Jeremy Meeks as the man with the mugshot that broke containment. Blue eyes, sharp features,
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The technical storage or access is strictly necessary for the legitimate purpose of enabling the use of a specific service explicitly requested by the subscriber or user, or for the sole purpose of carrying out the transmission of a communication over an electronic communications network.
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Losing Friends After Losing Weight: What Aba N Preach Reveals About Health, Curves, and Community Pressure
By Petty Pablo | Lead Social Analyst
Losing weight is supposed to be a personal win, but for a lot of Black women, it can turn into a public debate. In a conversation sparked by Instagram creator thetreasureshow, Aba N Preach unpack how a weight loss journey can bring side-eye, backhanded compliments, and even friendship fallout. The core tension is simple: people praise the look they prefer, then criticize the moment health becomes the priority.
When weight loss gets treated like betrayal
The creator at the center of the discussion says she posts her transformation to motivate other women, then gets hit with comments that don’t even try to hide the judgment. The vibe isn’t, “Congrats.” It’s more like, “Why did you change yourself?” mixed with the kind of praise that quietly implies she was “fine” before, so she shouldn’t have touched anything.
Her specifics matter. She describes being 5’6″ and 200 pounds, and calls it what it was for her: obese, unhealthy, and uncomfortable. Even then, she says her shape “passed” socially because she was bottom-heavy with a smaller top. In other words, the silhouette got prioritized over the reality.
That’s where her frustration lands: in her view, parts of the Black community can treat curves like a health exemption, as if a big butt automatically cancels out risk. She uses a blunt, relatable image to explain how close she felt to the edge, saying she was basically “a hamburger away” from her stomach pushing over the line, forcing wardrobe changes and constant discomfort.
Aba N Preach largely agree with her framing. They don’t treat it like a “preferences” argument. They treat it like a messaging problem: when the loudest feedback is about body shape, people start confusing what’s celebrated with what’s safe.
Why curves can get treated as “proof” you’re fine
The idealized, sexualized image comes with a price tag
The creator calls out an “idealized” and “sexualized” expectation placed on Black women, especially around having an extremely large butt. The frustration isn’t that curves are bad. It’s that the standard can get so extreme that it normalizes unhealthy weight, then shames anyone who opts out.
Aba N Preach react like they’ve seen the pattern up close. The tone is less outrage, more recognition: she’s saying the quiet part out loud. When a community heavily rewards one body type, the incentives don’t stop at fashion. They creep into what people defend, excuse, and deny.
They also point out how this pressure can slide into fetish territory, where people talk about Black women’s bodies like a menu item, not a human being with joints, organs, and a future.
It’s not exclusive to Black women, but it hits differently here
They acknowledge you can hear versions of this in other groups too. Still, they argue the “eat a sandwich” type commentary shows up in a sharper way in Black spaces, where thinness can get read as weakness, or as abandoning what’s culturally desired.
One of the more telling moments is the creator saying someone told her that after weight loss, she must be trying to attract white men. That’s not just rude, it’s strategic in a weird way. It tries to police her choices by attaching them to loyalty and identity, as if her body is a community billboard.
The underlying message is: keep the curves for the audience, even if the body carrying them is struggling.
Body positivity, celebrity examples, and the age reality check
The conversation also takes aim at how “body positivity” can get used. Not as self-respect, but as a shield against any honest talk about health. Aba N Preach bring up Lizzo as an example of how public narratives shift, and mention Mo’Nique, noting she once had a comedy bit about “skinny” women and later lost weight herself.
Their point isn’t that body positivity is worthless. It’s that the slogan can start falling apart around real-life timelines. They argue it feels easier to celebrate “I’m fine as is” in your 20s, but the body keeps receipts. By 30 or 40, long-term stress can show up fast, especially if someone has been carrying extra weight for years.
They also make a distinction that’s easy to ignore online: the load isn’t only about knees and ankles. It’s internal too. They talk about fat around organs, and how you can’t aesthetic-filter your way out of biology.
That’s where their “future prognosis” argument comes in. Even if someone feels okay now, they suggest asking the hard question: will this still work in your 50s and 60s, with mobility intact?
The health stakes are not abstract, they’re already here
In the comments they read, a doctor warns that Black women are having strokes in their 30s more than ever, and that many don’t know they have high blood pressure until something serious happens. The video also ties obesity to a broader family pattern, saying children are becoming more obese than their mothers, and that type 2 diabetes is rising.
Aba N Preach don’t treat that as random fear-mongering. They connect it to what’s observable: diet patterns, community norms, and the way denial spreads faster than lab results.
For grounding beyond the conversation, public health reporting backs the broader point that obesity remains a major issue in the US. For example, the CDC tracks adult obesity and severe obesity prevalence over time in its data briefs, including the most recent updates in CDC obesity prevalence reporting (NCHS Data Brief No. 508).
At the same time, the stroke and hypertension angle has gotten sharper focus. The American Heart Association has reported research highlights indicating that Black women who develop high blood pressure early may face significantly higher stroke risk. See AHA research highlights on blood pressure and stroke risk.
The key thing the video keeps returning to is timing. Health consequences don’t always show up right away, which makes aesthetics feel “real” and risk feel imaginary. That mismatch is exactly why people stay stuck until something forces the issue.
The BMI debate: fair critique, risky excuse
A counterpoint raised in the discussion is one you’ll see a lot online: BMI was built on European standards, so it can misread Black women’s body types. As a concept, that critique has merit, and Aba N Preach grant that there’s a range where BMI gets over-applied.
They also argue people use that talking point too conveniently. In their view, “don’t go off the scale” becomes “don’t question anything,” which turns into a permission slip to ignore pain, limited movement, or warning signs.
The video repeatedly recommends a better anchor than just weight: bloodwork, heart health, and how your body feels day to day. For readers who want a deeper explainer of BMI’s limitations and why it may misclassify some people, here’s a mainstream overview: Healthline’s guide to BMI accuracy for Black women.
A practical way to frame the debate is separating useful nuance from denial. Here’s the difference the conversation is really pointing at:
Their broader message is pretty plain: check the receipts on your health, not just the comments under your photo.
Losing friends after losing weight isn’t rare, it’s patterned
The title theme lands when they talk about a story many women have shared: after losing weight, they lost friends too. Aba N Preach don’t frame it as pure jealousy, but they do name the dynamic. When one person changes, the group routine gets exposed.
Weight loss often requires a different schedule, different food choices, more sleep, and time at the gym. Even if nobody says it out loud, that shift can feel like a silent critique of everyone else’s habits. Add insecurity, and it can turn petty fast.
They describe the unspoken comparison game that can happen in friend groups: “I can’t hang with her because now I’m the ugly one.” It’s blunt, but it captures the emotional math. If a friendship is built on sameness, growth can feel like abandonment.
The creator’s “white men” comment fits here too. When people can’t argue with your health goals, they’ll try to reframe your motivation as validation-seeking. It’s a way to take control of your narrative without having to confront their own.
When “you look good” becomes a trap: real pain, real choices
One of the smartest pivots in the video is when they widen the lens beyond weight and talk about other body decisions people judge too quickly. Aba N Preach share an example about a woman considering a breast reduction. The initial reaction is basically, “Why would anyone do that?” until the health reality shows up: back pain, difficulty running, daily discomfort, even concern about spinal issues.
That moment becomes the point. Outsiders often argue for what looks best, because they don’t have to live in the body.
They connect that to their own health choice: Invisalign, not for aesthetics, but to avoid a worse health outcome later. The punchline is simple and effective. The orthodontist didn’t need a sales pitch, just two words: “your health.” That line lands because it resets the hierarchy.
They also mention a comment from someone older who lost significant weight because their back hurt, and life improved afterward. The video’s take is refreshingly unsentimental: they don’t care if someone lost curves in the process, because the goal is staying alive and functional.
The extreme end: risky procedures and the “rap video” silhouette
The conversation also touches on the cosmetic-surgery era, including stories of people getting experimental butt injections in unsafe settings. Aba N Preach frame it as a symptom of incentives, not just vanity. If a certain look gets rewarded online, some people will chase it fast, even when the risk is obvious.
They also call out the irony of the “women do it for themselves” line when the end result keeps mirroring what men cheer for in music videos. They don’t deny agency, but they question the environment. If every algorithm rewards the same shape, independence starts looking a lot like compliance.
At the same time, they acknowledge a fair cultural backdrop: there was a period when curvier figures were treated as “less than,” so celebrating them felt like overdue correction. The issue is the swing to extremes, where support turns into pressure and pressure turns into harm.
Support without lies: the version of body positivity that actually works
Near the end, Aba N Preach offer a calibrated definition of “good” body positivity. It’s not self-hate as motivation. It’s also not pretending nothing needs to change.
They argue it’s healthy to say: I don’t like where I am, I want to improve, and I’m still going to respect myself while I do it. Progress can be slow. It can stall. It can restart. What matters is that people don’t get bullied into staying stuck just to protect someone else’s comfort.
They also call out the social script that sounds kind, but isn’t: “Don’t change, you’re good.” Sometimes that’s love. Other times it’s fear, projection, or a desire to keep the group dynamics unchanged.
Where to follow Aba N Preach (and related platforms)
The takeaway
If your community praises a body type louder than it protects people’s health, the feedback will get weird the moment someone changes. That’s the real story here, not a before-and-after photo. The video’s most useful insight is also the simplest: you can support people without shaming them, but you also shouldn’t sell comfort as a substitute for health. If you’ve seen this play out in your own circle, the question is worth sitting with, what’s being celebrated, and what’s being avoided?
Learn more about Pulse of Fame and our editorial team. Want to weigh in? Join the conversation in the Pulse of Fame community forum.
Related: Jasleen Singh’s Latest Comments Reignite the Akaash Singh “Flagrant” Back-and-Fo
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