Fat Suit Episode 3

I mentioned the proverbial “fat suit” for the first time a couple of posts ago. 

I know that I often use language that implies that I am not responsible for my current state of obesity.   I often share experiences which imply that other people simply do not understand.   I believe those things have truth. 

No matter how I tiptoe around it, I also know that I do not like to admit that I am fat because I made myself this way.  I don’t want to say that I overeat, that I am an emotional eater, that I use food to fulfill gaps in my emotional wellbeing, or that I just might feel safer in my fat suit than in any other state of being.  But, those things also have truth.

There are many ways for an individual to protect themselves physically and emotionally.  Being a person who simply wanted to fade into the background, wanted to be ignored, wanted to not be noticed by sexual predators, I may have subconsciously built a guard around myself.  An armor of fat instead of steel to keep the villains at bay. 

As I have grown into adulthood and overcome and understood my past experiences I have yet to grow out of the mindset that tells me I need this armor.  No matter how strong I know I am, no matter how prepared and capable I am to defend myself if I need to, I still hold on to this armor. 

I feel it is a crutch.  It is an armor that weighs me down, blocks me from being seen truly as I am. 

 How does one remove this emotional need to be protected?  How will I be able to let go of my armor, and lose it completely?  I don’t know the next step.        

Biting the Bullet

I think I want to try to run a 5 or 10k.  I know this may not seem like much.  I think it converts to about 3 or 8 miles.  Not an enormous athletic feat for the average person, probably.  But, I am still sitting on the fence about whether or not I should commit to it.  I may be running now, but I still run with intermittent walking when I need to catch my breath.  I still have sore and painful joints and muscles after jogging around my neighborhood.  It takes, at the very least, 4 days for my body to heal in between runs.  It is hard.  The fact that it is hard, makes me want to set my sights on something that I never thought I could do; to run in some kind of marathon, even if it’s just a 10k.  I will have to train better and work harder at getting consistent exercise.  I will have to be better about managing my pain.  I will have to get better sleep, and I will have to spend more of my energy focusing on just myself.  Will my family survive it? J 

I hope to be ready to run a 10k in the early summer time.   I hope I can find a 10k that is taking place around that time, here in Arizona.  I hope that I can put myself above the daily grind and needs of my family. 

I mostly hope that I can stop oscillating and just commit to doing it.

No Excuses.

I’m gonna do it!  

Running Club

Running Club: 

Some form of anxiety begins to fill my chest as I wait with the other runners at the starting line.  A bullhorn is blown and someone starts yelling “Go, Go, Go!”   I began to move as those around me take off.  I allow the other runners to go ahead of me, not minding when they pass me by.  It is exhilarating to be surrounded by excited and moving bodies, who are all anxious to speed up, all ready to shoot forward when there is no one blocking their way.  After a crowded few minutes the space opens up and I have a little elbow room.  I take it easy, going at a steady jog.  I know that my breath is already rasping and that I am among the slower runners bringing up the rear.  It is fun, it is exciting, and I jog, with intermittent walking, for 6 laps.  The equivalent of a mile and a half.  I am the tallest person out on the elementary school playground.  I stay within the coned off trail.  Many other runners are cutting through the open field or using the brightly colored, plastic cones as hurdles, leaping over them.  Sometimes they knock them over and I bend to pick them back up.  I stop to help tie shoe laces when needed, and my 1^st grader gives me a high five, and asks for water.   I am part of my son’s elementary school running club.  Every student is invited to participate.  Two days a week they meet after school.  Each time they make the loop around the outskirts of the playground, a parent volunteer hands them a popsicle stick, and at the end of the 30 minutes every student’s popsicle sticks are counted and recorded.  The weekly count is added to the previous week.  Those students who have a large amount of laps recorded will receive recognition at the end of the school year.  Some kids even get up to a hundred or more laps. 

My son and I both usually run 6 laps, though He is getting faster and will often go ahead of me to keep up with his buddies.  Neither of us are naturally lithe and springy like many of the kids that shoot past us.  But, we love the feeling of running.  As a parent, I love that he loves it. J 

I also have a deep appreciation for the idea that our efforts add up.  Three laps one day, four laps later in the week.  They are very small feats.  They may not really be very important.  However, they add up.  By the end of the year I can tell my son that he has run 22miles, or 30miles, or even 50 (depending on how much faster we might get). 

The little things that we do in our lives, for ourselves, our health, and for our children can really add up and teach a much bigger lesson than simply how to run in a circle.  The little things can add up to humungous, gigantic, insurmountable accomplishments.     

Fat Suit Episode 2

Fat suit

Episode 2:

Good Morning Doctor

 I used to dread going to the doctor.  I know many people do.  But, I DREAD it!  I will give you a run down on how 85% of my visits to the doctor would go. 

                After waiting my turn to be called, and having a non-descript individual run the normal checks while uttering orders in a non-descript voice, “Step on the scale”, “Sit there”, “Roll up your sleeve”, “under the tongue, please”, “oh, your blood pressure looks good”, “pulse is normal”, (scribbling on my chart) I would sit in the little examination room, and write poetry using the texting application on my cell phone, while I waited for the doctor. 

Let’s call him Dr. Gold today.

                Dr. Gold came into the room after a quick rap of his knuckles on the door.

                “Good, morning, and how are you today?”  he asked, glancing at me briefly and then referring back to the chart in his hands. 

                “I am good, thanks.  Just here for a check-up basically. I also need a well-women’s exam.  It’s been over a year,” I say.

                “Any history of diabetes, cancer, or heart disease in the family?”  he asked, mostly looking at my chart.  I don’t know why he asks me, it’s all there.

                “Yes, my mother had breast cancer seven years ago, two lumpectomy’s, she also had thyroid cancer, three years ago, had it removed.  My mother is diabetic, type two, and my father’s side has heart disease among the men,” Of course, I have answered these questions before.

                “We will have to get a mamagram done.  Your blood pressure looks great.  Never had any history of high blood pressure?”  Why would he ask me this, he just said it looked great.

                “Nope,” I respond.

                “And are you on any medication for arthritis or inflammation?  Like Celebrex or…”

                “Nope,” I say, though I know it’s not polite to interrupt.  He can see from my chart that I’m not on any, but I suppose some people go to more than one Doctor.  I suppose it was a valid question.

                Dr. Gold pulls his eyes away from my chart and looks at me.  “Aside from the well-woman exam, are there any other concerns you have that you want to discuss today?”

                “Well, I have been having some really intense mood swings and PMS.  I only mention it because my hormones have usually been pretty level most of my life,”

                “Well, I don’t want to alarm you, but you are overweight, and at your size it would be more difficult for your body to regulate your hormones,” 

                “Right,” I agree and he blinks at me.  “The women in my family, My Aunt, Grandmother, Mother, and Sisters all have had some signs of early menopause starting in their thirties, so I thought I should mention it,”

                “Well, I think if you lost, say, 50lbs, you may see a change in your hormone levels,” he responds.

                “Okay,” I smile.  “So women who are of average weight don’t have hormone imbalance issues?”  I ask, very curious.

                “Well, yes, they can.”  He looks at my chart again.  “But I think in your case let’s focus on losing some weight first.”

                “Okay.”  I smile.

                “Next time we come in…” (I’m not really sure why he keeps referring to me as “we”) “I would like to see at least a 15 lb weight loss,” he is speaking in a very gentle tone, and leans away from me as if he thinks I might burst into tears.  “I have some information here about nutrition that I will send home with you,” he continues, pulling a pamphlet from a plastic holder that is suctioned to the wall.  “I understand that it can be really difficult to lose weight, but if you lower your calorie intake and get some regular exercise you should be able to see a loss.”

                I wonder why he thinks I should lower my calorie intake when he doesn’t know what my calorie intake is.

                “Walking is a good way to start,” he says, “and swimming.  That is also a good one for beginners.” 

                “I swim every day,” I tell him.  “And I jog about 3 times a week.” Dr. Gold blinks and I move on.  “I was also wondering about another issue that I have been struggling with.  I sometimes get a headache after I exercise.  Could this be related to my Fibromyalgia?” 

                “People who are overweight are more susceptible to things like headaches,” he responds.

                “Okay, So, people who are not overweight don’t get headaches?”  I ask, politely.

                “Yes, they can, but I think in your case it probably stems from your weight problem.

                “Hmm, okay.”  I smile. 

                “So, I don’t want to treat you for the headache issue until you lose some weight first, kay?” he asked.

                “Yep,” I respond. 

                Dr. Gold writes on his clipboard and hands me two prescription slips and the pamphlet with a brightly colored picture of the standard food pyramid on the cover.  “Here is a prescription for an anti-inflammatory, which has to be taken with an over-the-counter acid reducer to prevent ulcers.  Then he walks out of the room.

                I look at the prescriptions in my hand.  One is for the treatment of arthritis pain and one is a narcotic, used to reduce pain, and as a sleep aid, both of which have a side-effect of weight gain. I leave the Doctors appointment and toss the prescriptions in the trash.  When it came to the issues I needed to address, they were equivolated to a symptom of my weight with no further investigation. Dr. Gold, like many doctors who look at my chart and see Fibromyalgia and also see my weight, decide that I need those things, that I am not active, and that I overeat. 

                 

I have had this very same experience many times.  I have been handed prescription pain killers that I didn’t ask for (and didn’t use) 8 times in my adult life, from a doctor.  I have been told by doctors that I am overweight, as if I didn’t know already.  One time a physician’s assistant held my hand, stroking the back of it, while she gently informed me that all of problems in life would just go away as soon as I got my weight under control. I don’t know what world she was living in.  I am waiting for the day when I go to the ER with injuries from a car crash and they tell me that nothing is really wrong, I just need to lose weight.