My husband’s lifestyle is very sedentary, with minimal exercise (20 to 60 minutes a week), though he does eat a largely healthy diet. I’ve watched him struggle with his weight over the 15 years we’ve been together, cycling through various approaches to diet and exercise. Even when he succeeds in losing weight, it always comes back, and now he seems to have given up.
As we both approach 50, I worry that his B.M.I., which is 30, and his B.R.I. (body roundness index, a measure of abdominal fat) are high (he can’t even button some of his shirts around the middle), which could lead to other health issues. I’ve already tried encouraging him to move more and eat better, but I can’t schedule every one of my workouts for us to exercise together, and he dislikes some of the routines I do, anyway. He’s also very sensitive about his weight.
Is it wrong for me to try to get him to take Ozempic? I’m hoping that losing weight will help boost his energy levels, which might lead to more self-care. I know it’s not my body, and I’m not his doctor, but as his wife I also know it will fall to me to care for him if health issues arise. — Name Withheld
From the Ethicist:
It’s natural to worry about the health of someone you love — especially as the years accumulate and the lines between caring for yourself and caring for your partner begin to blur. Long-term relationships involve a particular kind of vigilance: You notice the wince, the shortened breath, the unbuttoned shirt. This isn’t control; it’s love in the form of everyday attention.
Obesity really is correlated with health problems, and if your husband could lose weight sustainably, his life might improve in ways that matter. Historically, weight loss has been a story of perpetual disappointment — diets abandoned, exercise routines that peter out, New Year’s resolutions that start wobbling the following evening when it becomes clear that celery sticks are an imperfect substitute for chocolates. GLP-1 drugs, such as Ozempic, have helped many people break that cycle.
Still, even sound advice can land wrong if it touches a nerve. If your husband is sensitive about his weight, the real challenge isn’t knowing what’s best; it’s finding a way to talk about it that feels loving, not critical. Try to keep the focus on the prospect of his feeling fitter and on your hope for more good years ahead. Maybe suggest he talk to his doctor — not as a directive but as a way to explore options. You’re not pushing him to “fix” himself; you’re looking out for him. If it turns out to be a difficult conversation all the same? Loving someone can mean risking that discomfort — for the sake of all the days you haven’t yet lived together.
A Bonus Question
When our children were toddlers, my ex-wife suffered a severe brain injury that left her in a permanent vegetative state. Since then, my ex-mother-in-law has refused to accept this and has unsuccessfully sued for shared custody. After mediation, I agreed to weeklong visits twice a year with my ex-wife’s family, hoping my children would bond with them. My ex-mother-in-law, however, repeatedly forced my children to spend most of these visits at the nursing home, lying about their mother’s condition. To prevent psychological abuse, I suspended unsupervised visits but offered supervised ones, which were rejected. My ex-in-laws have since cut off all contact. Given this, am I still required to facilitate contact between my children and their maternal grandparents? — Name Withheld
From the Ethicist:
This is plainly a difficult and emotionally charged situation for everyone involved. Family bonds are important, and children generally benefit from relationships with extended kin. As the primary caregiver, though, it’s for you to decide what relationships will best support your children’s flourishing. (I can’t comment on the legal aspects of the situation, of course.) To tell children that a mother in a permanent vegetative state is conscious or capable of recovery — however sincere and well intended — risks bringing confusion and distress. It’s impossible not to have sympathy for these grandparents, and you offered a reasonable compromise. But you shouldn’t be asked to sacrifice your children’s well-being to their wishes.
Readers Respond
The previous question was from a reader who was asked to pay for a subscription to a friend’s Substack newsletter and website. The reader wrote: “My friend has made it clear that my support as a paid subscriber is expected. Do I really have to become a paying patron just because I’m a friend? And is there a kind, nonconfrontational way to express that I deeply value my friend’s work, but can’t commit to showing my support with a $50 subscription?”
In his response, the Ethicist noted: “You have already met and exceeded the demands of friendship, lending your presence and, on occasion, purchasing a ticket. But to be told, explicitly or by implication, that the relationship now requires a monthly outlay for online content is to muddle the boundary between support and subsidy. True friendship is best kept free of recurring charges.” (Reread the full question and answer here.)
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I agree with the Ethicist that friendship shouldn’t require a paid subscription. But the letter writer also asked for advice on telling their friend. Kind, simple and direct is the way to go: “I’m happy to keep supporting your art in the ways I always have, but I’m not willing to make a monthly financial commitment.” — Emmett
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As a writer and fine-art photographer, I’m so grateful to my friends and family for supporting my endeavors, be it subscribing to my Substack or showing up at my exhibitions. While I appreciate when they go a step further by becoming a paid subscriber or purchasing my work, it’s only when someone with no personal obligation chooses to pay for my creative output that I feel artistic validation. If your friend truly expects your financial support, then I think that speaks to her insecurities as an artist. And that’s worth a conversation with her. — Linda
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Now is the time for honesty in your friendship. Something simple, like: “Congratulations on your newest endeavors! While a paid subscription isn’t for me right now, you know I’m always in your corner and happy to share the exciting news about your Substack.” This clearly states that you aren’t subscribing but will support her in nonfiscal ways. Hopefully she’ll be thrilled for your support in whatever form it’s offered. If this ends the friendship, you’ll be able to move on knowing you gave what you could. — Kelly
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I have a lot of artsy friends and they all hit me up for their Substack subscriptions, Kickstarters, show tickets and all other imaginable forms of patronage. I’ve decided I’m done. You want to be friends? I require a mutually beneficial relationship. Yes, my friend, you are special. And yes, you are special to me. This is why I pay attention to your art. But asking me to pay you for it makes it a commodity, and I’m interested in being your friend, not your buyer. — Karen
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Refusing the subscription would be a good test of the friendship. If it continues, your friend is friends with you for who you are. If refusal affects your relationship, it shows that your friend is more interested in what you can give. You shouldn’t be expected to pay just to offer your companionship. — Paul
Kwame Anthony Appiah is The New York Times Magazine’s Ethicist columnist and teaches philosophy at N.Y.U. To submit a query, send an email to [email protected].
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