Weight! Weight! Don't Tell Me!

Ouch!

“I want to weigh less, not through diet and 

exercise, but by acquiring a faulty scale.”
― Jarod Kintz

I had another medical appointment yesterday, this time to go over the results of the gall bladder tests the Dr. Emery ordered and I did not have because I didn't want yet more radiation and nuclear crap near the body. However, given the fact that I've had a horrible sinus infection due to all the mulberry, juniper, grass, dust, and other pollens (exacerbated by the horrible wind this week) in the air, it was a good thing I went in. I needed to beg for a Kenalog shot and to talk to him about diet and exercise, two subjects I hate to approach.

Like most of the population, I struggle with weight, and my obsession depression battle started way too long ago. I blame my mother with body obsession depression battle issues (More on that later), but I have to start getting serious since Dr. Bedotto, my cardiologist and Dr. Emery, my internist, have been after me to exercise regularly.

Two buffalo wings and two fries are okay.

After scolding me for not having the gall bladder tests, praising me for staying in the house for two days while the winds blew the valley to kingdom come, and telling me I needed aforementioned Kenalog shot, Dr. E brought up exercise.

"Funny you should mention that. I have to talk to you about weight," I said.  He rolled his eyes.  "I really need to get serious and lose weight and start exercising. Now Dr. Bedotto wants me walking a minimum of 30 minutes a day."

"What do you want me to do for you?" Dr. E asked, "exercise for you?"

"That would be great," I replied. "When can you start?" He clunked his head on the metal computer desk. "I'll give you my Jawbone so it records your my steps."  He stared at me.

Fresh fruit is #1.

"It's exercise and portion control," he finally said. "You're a smart woman. You know that. You did it before."

"You're a smart doctor. You know I'm one of those people who needs..."

He finished my sentence.  "A kick in the ass."  Actually, I was going to say I needed someone to hold me accountable, but I guess it's sort of the same thing.  "You're not that overweight," he continued,  "but you should exercise more. That will help you lose what you need to lose." 

So, this conversation—particularly his last comment about not being *that* overweight—got me thinking about our obsession with body size and such.  It's not really a new thing...at least I don't think it is. As I mentioned before, I blame my mother for my personal battles. (Of course, most of us probably do if truth be told.)

My mother, God rest her soul, was a tiny thing. She stood 5'1" tall, and her average weight was 102 pounds. I remember the moaning she did when she weighed 110 pounds one time when I was in high school.  You would have thought she was as big as a house.

I was a lot taller and bigger-boned than my mother although through high school, college, and early adult years, I probably weighed no more than 15-20 pounds more than she.  I gained a little weight my freshman year in college, and she more than noticed.

"My God, Christine," she exclaimed. "Did you eat everything in sight? Look at how big you are."  Considering the fact that I still fit into my clothes even though they were a little tight, she hurt my feelings. "Who's going to look at you if you look like that?"  She threw similar comments at me a lot, and while I now realize it was my mother's own poor self-image that caused her to talk like that, I didn't know that at the time.  In turn, those remarks did a number on my own image.

Bad, Christine! Bad!

At any rate, all this led me to think about clothing and such. Back when I weighed little more than my mother, I wore a bigger size of clothes than I wear today. Seriously.  So, I did a little research on this.

Did you know that the average American woman today weighs the same as the average American man did in the 1960s?   How about this one: In 1970, a woman with a 26-in waist wore a size 12. Today, a woman with a 39-inch waist wears a size 12.  Or this one: Clothing manufacturers define their own sizes today, and any given size can differ by as much as five inches depending on designers and manufacturers.  It's vanity sizing today.  They changed the sizes so that women don't "think" that they're bigger than they used to be.  I go along with that. I shop at Chico's for a lot of reasons, not the least of which is their sizing.  I can go in there and buy any piece of clothing in my size without trying it on because I know it will fit.  Besides, Chico's sizes their clothes from 000-to-4.  Wearing the small size I do helps repair the damage my mother did to my psyche so long ago.

Don't even think about Nutella.

At any rate, I'm going to work this weight thing out over the next four months.  Dr. E is going to monitor my progress monthly or, to quote him, "....give me that kick in the ass." Hopefully I'll get to the point that I'll feel crappy if I don't walk or go to our fitness center or something. We'll see. I'm more prone to more sedentary addictions.