This article made me laugh -- the author lost weight during a flare up of lupus and ended up getting a lot of compliments from envious friends.
"I was a walking skeleton and eventually wound up in a wheelchair . . . [b]ut the crazy thing was people thought I looked great because I was so thin. They'd ask if I was working out and I didn't have one muscle. You could see every bone protruding out of my shoulders, my elbows, my wrists."
"[P]eople suffering from broken jaws, gastrointestinal woes — even cancer — have all had friends and strangers alike brush off their suffering in order to rejoice in their 'fabulous' weight loss," the article adds.
I remember feeling uneasy about getting compliments for my weight loss when depressed. Not only did it feel like the person who complimented me missed what was important (I was in an awful state that involved a combination of appetite loss, weakness, immobility, and vomiting), but the "compliment" drew attention to the noticeable (and now undeniable) impact of the illness on my life.
The depression diet was not worth it. As much as I liked fitting into a size 0-2 instead of a size 4-6, I resented the weight loss for distracting people from the underlying problem. I sure wouldn't voluntarily go through that much pain just to fit into my skinny jeans.