Sunday, April 29, 2012

underwear and parachutes (or...one should not remind you of the other!)

If you've been a regular reader of my blog, you know that I had a big push last year to be "fit not fat by 40" and that I failed miserably at it. I had pushed the whole weight loss thing to the back burner after that.  I'm so busy living this full and interesting life that I kind of said to myself "do I need to really devote so much energy to this?" Well, the answer, as it turns out, was yes, although it took me several months to figure it out. You might sigh as my faithful reader and say "oh no, here we go again", but sometimes you do something different for what seems a silly reason and your whole world view gets turned upside down... and makes you think that this time... finally... there really might be hope!


This is the moment that something clicked. All my underwear was old and shabby, but as a fat woman I obviously despise clothes shopping in any form. Nobody wants to be reminded how fat you are by trying to squeeze into the biggest size in the store, or roaming the discreetly named "woman's section". I finally decided, however, that the holes and the stains were probably not going to keep the homefires burning, if you get my drift! One look at those and my husband would politely say "um... no thanks". So off to buy some pristine new underwear. Yeah. Following the measurements on the back of the bags I was finally led to some underwear that was "just my size" *sigh... one day I'd love to see some honesty...how about "lard butt designs... this is for YOU fat girl!"* . So anyway, I bought the underwear that "just my size" said was just my size. I guess it's been a few years. When I got home and opened those underwear and unrolled the neat little roll (4 in a pack!) it was more like unfurling a flag than unrolling some underwear. I mean, my 8 year old daughter Abby could use these things as a parachute! My butt could not POSSIBLY be this big. My butt isn't even the fat part of me. I'm an apple and most of my fat is in my stomach. I tried them on with some trepidation, and man, they fit great!!! Okay. So.

Facing the facts #1: My butt WAS that big!
Facing the facts #2: Since my butt is not the biggest part of me, that means my stomach is truly enormous.

I had given up dieting and all that crap a while back. I have been dieting since I was 14. I rarely lost weight, and when I did I would promptly gain it back again plus 20 to memorialize the occasion. This day, however, something clicked in my head. I said to myself... well.... I can't keep doing NOTHING... I'm wearing a parachute for underwear! hmmmm... So I immediately joined weight watchers and started in on my new life.... NOT.

I made a joke about the underwear to my 4 kids, filed the incident in my mind, and got back to my very busy life.

This is the moment that I made up my mind. I had to go to the doctor. I hate going to the doctor. One, it usually means my asthma is flaring up and they are going to put me on cortisone, which for my body means weight gain every time. two, we are always on a tight budget, and a 20 dollar copay for something that is not fun is not at the top of my list of things to spend money on. I actually can't remember now what I went to the doctor for, because whatever it was, it was not what I came away from the appointment remembering. The nurse ushered me into the room, and truthfully I've been expecting for years for them to take bloodwork and tell me I have diabetes. How my body has managed to process all the sugar my sugar addiction has fed it over the years without developing diabetes, I do not know. All I can say is that I must have a very efficient pancreas. It wasn't the shocking news that I'd developed diabetes that sent me to weight watchers though. It wasn't any bad health news in fact. It was this. The nurse took my blood pressure. I've always been 120/80. Rock Solid, for years. Today it was high. Very high. High enough that the nurse immediately took it again. Then she said "your blood pressure is quite high". I reply "It never is. My blood pressure is always great! I took it at CVS the other day on the machine and it was fine". She looks at me a minute, says "hmmmm" (she actually did say Hmmm. I am now officially one of those things that make people go hmmm.) and walks into the other room. She comes back with a different cuff, takes my pressure again, and with a huge sigh of relief she says "now, that's MUCH better". It took me about 30 seconds of wondering if the other cuff was broken to realize what had just happened. There was such a thing as a fat lady blood pressure cuff, and I had graduated to it.
 
I went home quite perturbed. I mean, standard medical equipment was no longer able to measure my bulk. This is NOT right. I don't know why this, and not one of the million other indignities suffered by the fat, was the trigger for me, but the underwear and the blood pressure cuff in quick succession shook me up. This was January.