Weighty Subject

  Hi.  My name is Ellen and I’m …  Hold on.  Deep breath.  Try again.  Hi.  My name is Ellen and I’m obese.  There!  I’ve said it!  Not just overweight.  Not just chunky.  Not just fat.  Obese.  Morbidly obese, even.  God, what a horrible word: “obese!”  What a horrible phrase: “morbidly obese!”

  FYI, according to the American Heritage Dictionary, the definition of obese, which is an adjective, is, “Extremely fat; grossly overweight;” the definition of morbid, an adjective from which the adverb morbidly is derived, is, “Of, relating to or caused by disease; psychologically unhealthy or unwholesome; gruesome.”  Okay, so let’s put all that together, shall we?  Morbidly obese = psychological impairment resulting in gruesome overweightness (I know it’s not a word).  Right?  Yeah, right.

  I’ve gotten so good at not really seeing me, even when I study myself in the mirror, that it is shocking when I DO see myself clearly.  Passable face.  Changeable, green-to-hazel eyes.  Pale skin peppered with freckles and evidence of sun damage.  Small, nicely-shaped ears.  Hair currently highlighted, permed, and growing out.  Teeth that need a LOT of work, if not replacing (one of my goals is to get porcelain veneers, if possible!).  Pear-shaped body sitting atop thick thighs, sitting atop thick calves, sitting atop sometimes downright skinny ankles, sitting atop smallish feet which somehow manage to hold everything up.  Decent-sized breasts which, untamed by a supportive bra, are gravitationally challenged.  Small hands at the end of leg o’ mutton arms.

  I haven’t been able to buy clothes off the rack in years.  I shop online at places like Roamans and Catherines, which feature “extended sizes” that actually fit my frame.  And I will make things for myself, using my similarly-sized dress form to help be certain what I construct will actually fit.  I use my tape measure, too, but shudder at the numbers.

  So, the obvious question is, why don’t I “just lose weight?”  Well, I have!  Lost it and gained it back, plus additional pounds, over and over again.  Too many times to count.  Slim-Fast, Weight Watchers, Atkins, South Beach and Curves.  Most recently, I retained a truly amazing whole health counselor (Ellen Lalicata of The Spirit Garden – www.thespiritgarden.net) who, over the course of 14 months, succeeded in turning my head around big-time in regards to how I came to be <gulp> obese.  Even with all that support and knowledge, I’ve been putting on weight again and I know it’s through choices I’m making and signals I’m ignoring.  I have the knowledge and I know my body’s signals (originally I mistyped and had “bodies” in place of “body’s” – an interesting mistake, since my weight could easily be used to construct two people).  I’m very intuitive, I’m always stopping to check in with where I’m at emotionally, and yet … I’m obese and I’m truly not doing a damn thing about it.

  “Maybe you’re happy this way.”  Huh??  Maybe I’m happy being the one trudging behind, trying not to let on how winded I am from a walk that for most people is a breeze?  Maybe I’m happy pretending I don’t know how strangers on the street, in the grocery store, etc., look at me and – come on, admit it! – judge me?  Maybe I’m happy avoiding certain situations and venues when I’m not certain I’ll be able to fit my substantial hips into a seat?  Maybe I’m happy knowing that I’d be the person required to purchase two plane tickets for my one body and ask for a seat belt extender?  Ummm … No.  No, I’m not happy this way.

  “You must have a good body image.”  Again:  Huh??  A “good body image?”  Are you on crack???

  Last night, at my youngest brother’s birthday party at my parents’ house, we were all sitting briefly down in the air-conditioned comfort of the living room.  A discussion about Archie Bunker’s truly funny bigotry led to Sally Struthers, which led to one of my sisters-in-law mentioning she’d heard from someone that Ms. Struthers (in her own substantial glory) frequented a restaurant in York, near Ogunquit Playhouse (at which she does summer theater; just finished playing Golde in Fiddler on the Roof ) and was rumored to be on the eyebrow-raising side of soused.  After the chorus of semi-interested “reallies” had passed, my sister-in-law (who is overweight, NOT obese) went on to say how offensive it was to her that Ms. Struthers, at her size, was the spokesperson (at least in the past) for an organization that sponsored hungry children.

  Without any defensiveness (seriously!), I responded, “Why is that offensive?  She’s a representative.”

  And the sister-in-law’s response was, “Because she’s huge and they’re starving.”

  I asked my question a different way:  “Why does it matter?  What does that have to do with it?”

  “I don’t know,” she replied with a blank face and a shrug of her shoulders.  “It’s just always bothered me.”

  Oh.  As I sat there digesting both dinner and the brief exchange, I checked in with myself and found it interesting how detached I was; detached from feeling anything, really.

  Having effectively ended that conversation thread, my mother ushered us all upstairs for cake and ice cream.  In the dining room, my sister-in-law approached me and quietly requested I step outside with her.  I knew what was coming but went anyway, saying as we went, “Don’t worry about it, honey.  It’s not a big deal.”  Great choice of words, right?  Of course right!

  Outside on the front step (stoop?) of my parents’ house, my sister-in-law said, “I’m sorry if I offended you.”

  “You didn’t,” I assured her.  She really hadn’t … as far as I could tell from my emotion-devoid space.

  “I want to tell you that you really made me think about why that bothered me,” she went on to say.  “Just because she’s huge doesn’t mean she doesn’t have a big heart.”

  “That’s true.  And thank you for saying that,” I responded.  Just as I typed this last snippet of conversation, I actually laughed out loud.  I mean, come on … what IS this??  What WAS that???  What the hell does THAT mean?????

  Translation: “Just because YOU’RE huge doesn’t mean YOU don’t have a big heart.”  Wow.  That’s the kind of judgement I’m getting from my own overweight sister-in-law and I’m worried about what strangers think?  I need to narrow my focus and start small; pun intended.

  Our little tete-a-tete ended with a hug (warm on her end, luke-warm on mine) and we went back inside to have cake and ice cream … well, my sister-in-law had cake and ice cream (“a very thin slice, please; I like salty more than I like sweet … just a little scoop to try”); I had a regular-sized piece of the devil’s food cake with chocolate icing my Mom had made – “no ice cream, thank you.”  I didn’t say, “I’m cutting back,” but it would have been fun to if I was of that mind!!

  So, this morning as I was eating my breakfast of turkey bacon (love it), scrambled eggs (made with water; cooked with EVOO – extra-virgin olive oil), a slice of whole grain wheat toast (dry), and coffee (cream only), I thought about what I could do “this time” to get myself back on track.  HA!  This time?  Let’s get real, Ellen:  to get on track, period.  I’ve been thinking alot about “going Atkins” again, because it’s very effective at melting off oodles of pounds with relative rapidity – at least in my case!  That was followed by the thought that once I’d gotten rid of some weight, I’d REALLY begin to exercise; probably start walking.  I thought about all this while I caught up on some DVR’ed programming, and while I cleaned up my breakfast dishes, and while I filled my hot pink water bottle with iced green tea to bring up to my office, and while I downloaded and responded to e-mails, and while I updated my website.  I’m always multi-tasking, especially when something is bothering me!  I mean, why would I just stop and focus on the issue at hand in order to – imagine! – deal with it?

  And, obviously, I’m still thinking about it, in a strangely detached way.  I’m still not FEELING anything; I’m not recognizing any feelings attached to what I’ve just strewn onto this blank page, at any rate.  The fact that I’m committing any of this to my blog, knowing that anyone can read it, is HUGE.  Enormous.  Ginormous.  Obese, even.