Episode 237: The Excuse You Keep Repeating That’s Keeping You Fat

Jonathan Ressler:

Hey, welcome back to Shut Up and Choose, the podcast that cuts through the noise. All the bullshit the internet, gurus, and Instagram influencers keep throwing your way. Eat this. Don’t eat that. You can’t lose weight because your hormones are imbalanced, or you need some special gut cleanse because that’s what you really need.

That’s all a bunch of horseshit.

What I’m about to tell you is important. Really important. So listen carefully. Don’t half-listen. Don’t multitask. This part matters.

The excuse you keep repeating is the reason you’re not losing weight.

It’s not your schedule. It’s not your stress. It’s not your kids. It’s not your age. And it’s not your hormones. Those are not causes. They’re cover stories.

If you were losing weight, you wouldn’t need explanations. Results don’t require speeches. Results shut you up. The fact that you’re still explaining tells you everything you need to know.

Here’s the truth you keep stepping around. You’re not stuck. You’re choosing. Every day. Every meal. Every time you say “I can’t right now” instead of telling the truth. “I don’t want to.”

That sentence is the problem.

So turn the volume up, because you don’t have a time problem. You have a priority problem. You don’t have a metabolism problem. You have a consistency problem. And you sure as hell don’t have a knowledge problem. You have a follow-through problem.

You already know what works. Eat fewer calories than you burn. That’s it.

Stop grazing. Stop drinking your calories. Stop pretending weekends don’t count. Stop acting like one hard day invalidates the next decision.

None of this is complicated, and none of it is hidden. The industry loves to pretend it’s mysterious. It’s not. What you lack is not information. It’s ownership.

The excuse you repeat sounds reasonable, right? That’s why you keep it. It protects you. It lets you feel justified when nothing changes. It lets you say you’re trying when the scale doesn’t move.

It gives you a story that sounds adult and responsible while your behavior stays exactly the same.

You tell yourself you’ll focus when life calms down. Life doesn’t fucking calm down.

You tell yourself you’ll be consistent when motivation shows up. Motivation doesn’t stick around. It always leaves.

You tell yourself you’ll start when conditions improve. I love that one. Conditions never improve.

You’re waiting for permission to choose differently. That permission never comes.

Here’s the part that should really bother the shit out of you. If your excuses were true, you’d be closer by now. Not perfect. Closer. More control. More consistency. Less confusion.

You’re not.

That tells you the excuse is not a reason. It’s a shield.

Every time you say “I can’t,” what you really mean is “I’m choosing not to.” And as long as you keep bullshitting yourself about that, the weight stays exactly where it is.

So today, we’re not talking about diets. You know I don’t like talking about diets. We’re not talking about workouts. We’re not talking about motivation.

We’re talking about the sentence you repeat every day that keeps you from losing weight. Because until that sentence dies, nothing else changes. And until that sentence dies, the weight stays exactly where it is.

The real definition of an excuse is this. An excuse is not a reason. It’s a decision dressed up to look responsible.

That matters because reasons lead to solutions. Excuses lead to repetition.

If something were actually stopping you, you’d be adjusting. You’d be experimenting. You’d be changing inputs. Instead, you keep saying the same sentence and expecting a different outcome.

That tells you exactly what you’re dealing with.

An excuse exists to protect behavior, not explain it.

When someone says “I just don’t have time,” they’re not describing a fact. They’re making a choice and asking you not to question it.

Time is not something you do or do not have. Time is something you spend, and you spend it exactly where you want to. On your phone. Streaming. Sitting on your ass. Snacking. Scrolling.

None of that happens by accident.

“I don’t have time” really means “this isn’t important enough for me to rearrange my day.” That’s not a flaw. It’s a choice.

The problem starts when you pretend it’s not a choice.

Here’s another favorite. “I’m too stressed right now.”

That sounds compassionate. It sounds modern. It sounds like self-awareness. At the end of the day, it’s still an excuse.

Stress does not remove your ability to choose. Stress reveals what you choose under pressure.

If stress forced behavior, everyone would respond the same way. They don’t. Some people tighten up. Some check out. Some eat. Some move.

Stress does not decide. You do.

“I’m too stressed” really means “I’m using stress as permission to avoid discomfort.”

Then there’s “I’ll start when things settle down.” That one’s dangerous because it feels temporary. It feels patient. It feels like a plan. It’s not.

Things don’t settle down. They shift.

Waiting for calm is telling yourself you’ll wait forever.

This excuse survives because it has no deadline. You can say it for years and never feel dishonest.

“I’ll start when things settle down” really means “I’m not willing to act inside real life.”

Another common one is “I already know what to do.” That’s true. And completely irrelevant.

Knowing doesn’t create results. Doing does.

People love this excuse because it lets them feel competent while avoiding execution. Knowledge becomes a hiding place.

If knowing were enough, you’d already be done.

You’re not.

An excuse always sounds reasonable. If it didn’t, you wouldn’t use it. It has to pass your internal credibility check. It has to sound like something a responsible adult would say.

That’s why excuses are effective. They don’t sound like lies. They sound like explanations.

But watch the pattern. Same excuse. Same result.

Reasons lead to change. Excuses lead to repetition.

If a sentence doesn’t force a new behavior, it’s not a reason. It’s a permission slip.

Excuses also delay ownership. They let you feel like the situation controls you. That feels safer.

Ownership creates pressure. Pressure forces action.

Excuses remove urgency. They let you say “this isn’t my fault” while the outcome stays the same.

Here’s a simple test. If you’ve said the same sentence for more than six months and nothing has changed, it’s an excuse. No exceptions.

Real reasons demand adjustment. Excuses protect comfort.

Once you see that distinction, you can’t unsee it.

And once you stop calling excuses reasons, you lose the ability to hide behind them.

That’s where change actually starts.

So if you’re wondering what the cost of repeating the same script is, here it is.

Every excuse has a cost. Not dramatic. Not immediate. Slow.

That’s why you tolerate it.

Nothing explodes overnight. The cost leaks. Energy never improves. The scale never moves. Confidence erodes inch by inch.

You wake up tired. Not exhausted. Just tired enough to avoid effort.

You get through the day functional, not alive. And you tell yourself this is adulthood. This is getting older.

It’s not.

It’s avoidance.

The cost isn’t just physical. It’s psychological.

Every time you say the sentence and do nothing, you train yourself that words mean nothing. You teach your brain that you don’t follow through.

That’s not motivation. That’s conditioning.

Over time, you stop trusting yourself. I did. Completely.

You half-try everything. And half-trying produces exactly the results you’re living with.

Then comes comparison. Not with influencers. With real people. Coworkers. Friends. People who used to be just like you.

Instead of inspiration, you feel irritated. Defensive.

They didn’t find a secret. They stopped repeating the same sentence.

I lived this. For years, I had a reason ready. Work. Stress. Travel. I could explain my weight perfectly.

Because the explanation sounded intelligent, I believed it.

Meanwhile, my health deteriorated. Hospital stays. Medications. Doctors stopped negotiating with me.

That’s where the script leads if you let it run long enough.

Your cost may look different. Missed photos. Avoided mirrors. Chairs you won’t sit in. Stairs you won’t climb. Experiences you opt out of because your body feels like a liability.

That’s the real cost.

Not weight.

Agency.

And here’s the shift that breaks everything.

“I can’t” becomes “I choose.”

That change removes every hiding place.

Choice is uncomfortable. Good.

Discomfort is where progress starts.

Stop explaining. Stop waiting.

Make the choice.

You already know it’s time to shut up and choose.