Losing 200 Pounds, Gaining Himself: A Tenor’s Path to Healing

When tenor Roy Hage first stepped into an elementary school music room in Virginia, he could not have predicted how profoundly singing would shape his life. What began as choir rehearsals and playing instruments grew into a lifelong pursuit that carried him across continents and onto some of the country’s most competitive stages. Yet perhaps the most transformative chapter of his journey didn’t unfold in an opera house at all—it unfolded within his own body. Today, Roy speaks openly about losing more than 200 pounds on social media, the years-long process of relearning his instrument afterward, and how the experience reshaped both his self-image and the way the opera industry sees him. His story is not simply about weight; it is about identity and the often-unspoken intersection of the classical voice and the human body.

Life at 400+ Pounds: “I No Longer Felt Human”

Roy’s relationship to his body has been fraught. He struggled with his weight from childhood through early adulthood. “I was constantly bullied. I would lose weight and gain it back. Eventually I couldn’t buy clothes at the mall anymore. I had to shop at big and tall stores. At Six Flags, I could only ride two rides. On airplanes I barely fit in the seat.”

The isolation was crushing. “Society wasn’t body-positive then. I felt like the world wasn’t designed for someone like me. The day my scale at home flashed ‘ERROR’ because I exceeded its 400-pound limit…that was a breaking point. I didn’t feel human.”

Physical issues followed: heart palpitations, dislocated joints, breathlessness walking up stairs. “My quality of life just collapsed,” he says. “It wasn’t about wanting to be ‘thin’—I was scared for my health. I was miserable.”

A conversation with a friend became an unexpected catalyst when they recommended The Idiot-Proof Diet. The book led him to discover the Atkins/Keto method, and with an accountability partner, he committed fully to losing weight. The initial loss was dramatic, 50 pounds in just weeks, and the momentum continued. Over time, he shed more than 200 pounds and has kept it off for over a decade.

What Roy Wishes He Knew: “No One Explained What Actually Happens to the Voice”

As a young singer, Roy was warned that losing weight might harm his voice, but no one could tell him how or why. “People would just say, ‘You’ll lose support,’” he explains. “But that’s vague. It scared me without giving me information.”

Only recently did he learn the physiological reasons through vocal science research:

• More body mass increases subglottic pressure, making cord closure easier and the sound more efficient.
• Fat around the throat and face changes resonance, sometimes giving heavier singers a warmer, “buttery” sound.
• Changes in hormone levels after major weight loss may affect vocal fold hydration and pliability.
  

Suddenly, the struggles he’d faced made sense.

A Five-Year Process: Relearning the Instrument

Losing weight changed how Roy’s voice functioned. “My sound became more diffused. I struggled to get my cords to come together cleanly. I squeezed to compensate, which made my high notes harder. It was a mess.”

The physical freedom of a lighter body brought benefits like better stamina, easier movement, no joint pain, but the vocal adjustments took years. “It probably took five years to rebuild my support,” he says. “At Curtis I was thrown into roles before I fully understood how to manage the new voice. I was figuring it out in real time.”

Why He Speaks Out Now

Roy never intended to become a sort of weight-loss mentor, but former classmates and colleagues began reaching out after seeing recent pictures of him. “People were vulnerable with me,” he says. “They wanted help, and I didn’t realize I was inspiring anyone.”

Sharing before-and-after photos online led to more conversations, and eventually a commitment to speak publicly. His message emphasizes practicality, mental health, and compassion:

• Hydration matters more than people think.
• Find a diet you can sustain—not one that makes you miserable.
• Create accountability but avoid obsessing over the scale.
• Curate your social media to be uplifting, not punitive.

And above all: “Be kind to yourself.”

“I was cruel to myself during my weight loss. I didn’t celebrate milestones. I didn’t allow joy. If I could go back, I’d tell myself to celebrate every win and stop using shame as fuel. It works short-term but destroys you long-term.”

Advice for Singers Considering Weight Loss

Roy stresses that weight loss should never be driven by the pressure to “fit the mold.”

“Ask why you want to lose weight. If it’s for your health, that’s valid. If it’s because you think you can’t have a career otherwise—that’s not true. There are phenomenal singers of all sizes with major careers.”

He also urges singers to understand the vocal consequences. “Your technique will shift. You may need to retrain. But it’s possible and it can even make you stronger.” He notes, “When I was heavier, people assumed I had a big voice, a young heldentenor,” he explains. “After I lost weight, suddenly I was being labeled a light lyric. Not because my voice had shrunk, but because my body had. I had to work five times harder to produce the lighter sound they imagined I should have.” He laughs, but the implications are serious. “The industry still clings to visual archetypes.”

A Voice, Reclaimed

Today, Roy’s voice is bigger, freer, and more energized than ever. His stamina is athletic; he can leap across a stage for three hours without fatigue. He laughs easily, especially at his own past spirals. But beneath the humor is a powerful truth: transformation—physical, artistic, emotional—is neither linear nor simple.

“It took years,” he says. “But I’m grateful for where I am now. I learned resilience. I learned patience. And I learned that my worth as a singer and human doesn’t depend on a number on a scale.” His story is one more reminder that classical singers are whole people with complex histories and that our bodies, imperfect as they are, remain our first and most personal instruments.