Doctors say men's reluctance to seek help fuels a worrisome obesity gap
At 6 a.m., while much of Woodstock is still asleep, 57-year-old Matthew Broyles is already at the gym, pushing through another early morning workout with his trainer, Brian Turner.
"I've been like this with weight. Up and down, up and down," Broyles said.
But this time, something was different. A single photograph from a family trip to Hawaii, showing him 50 pounds heavier, became the wake-up call that changed his life.
Broyles is now an exception to a troubling national trend. Health experts say men and women share similar obesity rates, but men are dying an average of five years sooner, often because of weight-related complications.
At Prime Health in Alpharetta, owner and clinical operations director Sara Brzykcy says her practice is seeing the same pattern.
"What we're finding is that men are less likely to see themselves as overweight," Brzykcy said. "You couple that with a spouse who's often the one encouraging them to come in. That's when we start to see progress."
But for many men, asking for help still carries a stigma.
"Men tend to see seeking help as weakness," Brzykcy added. "And if they don't make the changes, it's not going to stay off."
Brzykcy and Turner have helped Broyles take a comprehensive approach combining strength training, a high-protein diet, testosterone therapy, and a GLP-1 medication that helps regulate blood sugar and curb hunger.
"Matthew was ready to make a change," Brzykcy said.
When asked whether he could have achieved these results without professional help, Broyles didn't hesitate.
"No," he said. "I'd be in the same place as I was."
In a culture that often teaches men to "tough it out," Broyles has learned a powerful lesson: sometimes the heaviest thing a man carries isn't the weight on the scale, but his pride.