My cup runneth over this Thanksgiving, or rather I runneth over my cup (and not just in the way I always run over my cups in my attire). AND I got a big slice of humble pie to go with it.
In English: I stepped on a glass Pyrex measuring cup at 5:00 a.m. with my FULL weight and required 9 stitches. These stitches I received while wearing a parka, no make up and pony tail hair. Not a good look for me. I had been awake all night with Thanksgiving giddiness leading to tidiness. It happens every year. The doctor did not numb my foot enough before stitching me but I was willing to endure the pain of his stitches rather than prolong the time I would have to endure the pain of his observations about my weight. We’ve all been there, if you are over weight. You go into the doctor with an axe in your head and he wants to have you step up on a scale and talk about diet and exercise.
“Uh, yes, but could we please take this axe out of my head first?”
My own doctor and I have reached an agreement I can live with regarding my weight. I went in at my last physical and my blood work and blood pressure are perfect. My numbers are very sexy and I am SO hot on paper. My number for my weight is too high. I asked him, “My other numbers are so wonderful, and my efforts to lose weight always end up with me gaining back the loss then exceeding the loss then losing the gain back to this same number”. (It’s like this endless game of “Candy Land” where I keep drawing the character “Plumpy” who makes you go back to the beginning. The person who invented this game was a fat genius and deserves all the money and fame they received for this timeless classic).
I trust my doctor. My doctor likes me and wants me to be his patient for a long time cause I don’t bother him unless it’s an emergency. I like him too, especially after what he said next.
“Jill you carry your weight very well. Nobody has quite figured this weight issue out yet and if you want to hang up your boxing gloves then I give you my blessing.”
Then he made the sign of the cross.
Too bad he was not on the clock at ER. Dr. Jerky gave me an unsolicited second opinion and I am sure if I asked he would have given the 1-2 punch Vaudeville skidoo.
Doc: You’re fat
Patient: I’m going to get a second opinion
Doc: You’re ugly too.
With my foot cut and bleeding and throbbing and the frustration of not having a leg to stand on to make dinner and go to Disneyland as planned on that Sunday, I had the misfortune to get an I.I. specialist (not G.I. - that stands for “gastrointestinal”, this is I.I. - “insult to injurial”). I wanted crutches or something cause with my herniated disc I could not stand on my right leg and since this was my left leg I was pretty much screwed in the walking dept. (doesn’t that sound like something naughty you do in the shoe store after hours?). Instead he wanted me to call his friend and sign up for his weight loss program. (Wow, they can get me skinny enough to walk by Sunday? Sign me up!) I wanted to cook dinner and stand in line and still do life without legs.
Before I tell you HIS opinion, I must also add just cause my ego has required it, that my sports med doctor who attends to my back said that whether I was 100 or 200 pounds my discs would still be sucking. It’s a rickety bookshelf and if you put 1 book or 20 books the thing is going to fall. NOW that is not to say that my back might not feel better at 100 pounds but since I have felt this way since I was 18 and weighed MUCH closer to l00 than 200 with more pain than I have had at higher weights than I am now, I think the notion I carry of skinny being the cure is false. In fact, I would probably have so much fun being 100 pounds I would not take it easy and would screw my back up more. BUT this is a chance I am willing to take if I can figure out how to lose weight safely and sanely or they invent some bulletproof method.
If you want the full effect of my “knee jerk response” to Dr. Jerk, whom I wish I had kneed, go to my blog “The agony of de-feet”. In a nutshell, instead of the healthy reaction others would have to a doctor changing the subject and not listening to my question or considering my medical history, I just laughed and agreed and got very serious and acted appropriately and grateful till it all set in. Then I went to the car and cried and dwelled on it all day and let it ruin my self-image on Thanksgiving (A fat mother’s dream holiday which I love).
Then I took two friends and called them in the morning. That worked. Laughter IS the best medicine. I then told all my closest friends and family so that I could get the appropriate antacid to take the burning feeling in my stomach away. It worked so well that I thought I would use this story in my blog to help others.
I want to tell you that if this should ever happen to you, this is what you need to do to feel better. When you do something REALLY humiliating that you don’t want ANYONE to know about you have to get right out there and tell everyone you know who loves you and then sit back and read the love. That’s what I did. Then when that wore off I went on stage and made more fun of myself and others, than anyone ever could. (Read the thrill of victory blog entry for the details). And now I am blogging to you. Never felt better in all my life.
I started this as a youngster in response to the run of the mill peer pressure and rejection of boys. I find it is always best to throw a pie in your own face when at all possible to combat the gnawing feelings of inadequacy and foolishness of the human condition. The sting in mean comments comes from the fear that the words are true. You have to get that out of the way.
Of course they are true.
But they are not the TRUTH and don’t have to be true for you, or at least not in the way that you feel they are. (And your friends and loved ones know that).
For instance, someone says you have a big nose? So what. Maybe it is true. When they say it, they are looking at you as if that nose is the scourge on the planet and your nose should apply for a separate zoning permit cause it is more like an addition to your face than something that belongs there from the start. Well, so what. Can you smell with it? Does it do its job there on your face? Do you like it? Does it look like all the noses on all the faces of the people you love in your family? Then celebrate your trunk!!
For me, the trunk in question is the stand I keep my head on. I have been strong and curvy but I never been skinny and I have never felt thin enough (even though I look at pictures or old clothes and wonder what the heck I was thinking!) I think it is no secret in this blog that I have not grown up and tamed the beast I have become (according to some measures). I have some chronic pain issues making exercise hard (I actually love exercising hard, but am only allowed gentle things and who has the time for that?) But also, I like the wrong things and it is a battle every day to not say “YES” to life and “YES” to Lifesavers. I am very immature when it comes to candy.
I have a class reunion coming up. I have been relieved that I had to miss pass class reunions due to death and geography cause I want to hide who I grew up to be, even though people whom I just meet who have far less reason to like me than people I have known all my life; love me just fine the way I am, just older, rounder, lumpier, me. I was going to try to lose weight for this reunion. There is still time. Then I just decided to email and tell them all to expect me fatter. By outing myself as a roundy I have the option of not losing weight or losing weight and pretending that is what I meant. Either way is ok, cause I still have my hair and my health and my family and friends here. Oh, and maybe by then I’ll even have something to talk about other than my weight FOR A CHANGE! Maybe by then life won’t be ALL ABOUT ME! That’s what I have YOU for!