Weight a minute

Published June 11, 2012 by Lynda Christine Rodriguez

Several weeks ago, I watched the “half-ton” specials on TLC.  I am fascinated by The Biggest Loser, Extreme Makeover: Weight Loss Edition, and Heavy.

Something I heard on the Half-Ton Mom portion made my thought processes actually stop. I still don’t quite have the words to describe how I feel about the the whole thing, but in spite of my Lumosity activities, I don’t think my brain is going  to spit out the precise wording, so this is the best I can do.

The half-ton mom was huge.  She looked a lot like my recliner a head attached ( I say this in all seriousness and am NOT trying to be funny.)  The doctor who had done her evaluation was describing her health risks, which she listened to grimly.  Then the doctor said, “But you have a really pretty face.”

Seriously.  That was all he could come up with?

I think it was incredibly condescending and if I had been there I would have punched him in the head.

This seems to be the perfect introduction to my personal diatribe (Diet-tribe?) about my own struggle/battle/ tantrum I have been going through since I was six years old (1975)

I can’t imagine what would prompt a doctor to advise a parent to send a six year old to Weight Watchers, thus giving me a life-time of association of weight with self-worth.  There are so many things I could say about this portion of my life, but I think I should save it for the book.

What gets me now is the food guilt, particularly in light of the variety of the weight loss extreme programs because I do sort of get it.  I get what a lot of people who have never faced the frustration of a relationship with what should be the absolute of a series of numbers (pounds, inches, meters, sizes, however you measure it.) I get it. I get how you can gain weight be it an extra five or ten or even hundreds of pounds.  You do it all the same way.

One pound at a time.

Whatever the reason you are trying to lose it, you face a certain amount of struggle and tension for every single ounce and pound.  For every single item of clothing you put on , there is the moment where you wonder if it will fit or if it will be comfortable, or maybe even look good.

Think about the last time you went a day without being aware of how much space you occupy.

I can’t remember that at all.

And I bet there’s a lot of people who can’t either.

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