The Back Story. Chapter 2

I'm not eactly sure when I first started thinking of myself as a "fat chick" but by my mid 30's, it was a presence in my life. My friends and coworkers, most of whom were in that lardy little boat with me would joke, laugh and commiserate about how fat we were. How we needed to "do" something about it. We'd whine and moan about our weights over wine and cheese. There were lots of words, lots of thoughts, lots of plans, but no action. It was just one of those things. I was fat. The end.

And then I got a warning shot.

In 1994, weighing in at a rotund 142, I started having chest pains. Chest pains get your attention so, emotional sirens blaring, off I went to the doctor. The diagnosis was acid reflux. I was also borderline diabetic. No big news flash there, diabetes is the body's response to stress. Weighing 142 was putting stress on my body, but it was cool. I'd been gestationally diabetic with both pregnancies so I knew exactly what to do about that, Buster.

A funny thing happened at the doctor's office in the middle of all of this. He had stepped out of the exam room and being the super sleuth spy that I am, I spun my chart around to see what secrets it might contain and what it sad was "36 year old obese white female....."

OBESE!!! What the f**k? I was insulted. I was furious. Not about being fat mind you. No! I was furious with the doctor for stating that I was Obese on my PERMANENT RECORD! What kind of inhumane ass does such a thing? I was on a mission to find out!

The doctor came back and I pounced on him like a duck on a June Bug. I grilled him. I interrogated him. I gave him my death stare. What exactly did he mean by calling me obese, I demanded to know. Shamefaced and sheepish, he quibbled, "Oh, that's just a medical term. It doesn't really mean anything." I knew it! He back pedalled me right into a fabulous case of denial. I actually remember thinking, "Well thank God I'm not obese! Its just a medical term." HA! Self decption is such a beautiful thing. Seriously, cancer is just a medical term too. All those people who die from it? Well, that's just a coincidence. I wasn't obese. I was just medical term challenged.

With my doctor tightly corraled about the "O" word, we focused on my acid reflux as my only health issue. His advice, once he realized I just wasn't going to pop a purple pill and go away quietly, was to give up spicy food, fatty food, coffee, alcohol and meat. My response? "I can give up meat," I asserted, confident in my take charge flux-be-gone attitude. The Doctor smiled thinly. The smirk on his face when I strutted out of his office as a newly minted vegetarian should have sent off warning bells in my head. I know now what he was thinking. "I'll be seeing you again, you obese, jackass."