It’s called “the curse of knowledge,” when you’ve been through something, you’re learned a lot, you’ve studied something up and down, you’ve resolved it for yourself and as a result, you take the information for granted.
You forget that not everyone is where you are. Some people have not resolved it. Or simply don’t even know about
it.
For example, my business coaching clients are learning how to educate their readers and sometimes forget that some of the most basic stuff—like, what foods are proteins?—is still applicable and instructive. I mean, the average person isn’t nearly as interested in fitness and nutrition as we are, so of course they don’t know as much as we do. We do this for a living, and they are relying on us to teach them. In a simple and usable way.
The
curse of knowledge hits me now and again, too.
Just last year I posted about cellulite, because I was blindsided with something about it on Twitter, and I was like, oh yeah, I forgot some people are still super stressed about it, even though 95%+ women have it? I’d personally gotten over it, just wasn’t on my radar. Heck, my ex-husband even told me he found some cellulite sexy! So I forgot that it’s a real stress for a lot of women.
BTW,
I don’t minimize those feelings about cellulite at all, they’re very real, as they were for me for many, MANY years. But such is the nature of the curse of knowledge—we assume that because we’ve moved on, so has everyone else.
And just this week I was hit with it again.
As you know, on Tuesday, I sent an email to you (and 60,000 other readers) with my weight plainly written in the subject line.
Now, of course I still get a little hit with this stuff, I’m human. It’s kind of scary to share my weight. Certainly vulnerable
AF.
But for the most part, I just picture how something like this might be received by people:
- Some might be surprised.
- Some might enjoy knowing how much I weigh. I wonder how tall she is? 5’7”
- Some might scoff, Gee Jill, must be nice to 160 lbs.
- Some might feel affirmed because 160 lbs is not rail thin.
- Some might be turned off because 160 lbs is not rail thin. She’s not qualified
to help me!
- And some people just might not give a shit.
And I came to the conclusion that I’d be fine with any of those things.
To me, sharing my weight is a service.
I want women to know that talking about your weight doesn’t have to be scary or bad or taboo or wrong. It’s literally just clinical. And if I can help people get more comfortable with their own number, then that’s great. Liberating,
even.
But I’ll admit, for those that have the #5 response, above, it’s still confusing.
I mean, I get it. But—curse of knowledge—are we still shameful about weight?? Do we still believe that lighter is always better? Do we still think a trainer—with years of experience, thousands of client contacts under their belt, years of study—is not qualified to help us if they weigh more than we do?
Welp, that’s exactly what I got
back:
