Fat Woman Walking

The Little Thief (the author as a baby) _______________________ As I was walking to the polls on November 6, I recalled a strange dream I had experienced the previous night. I was at my doctor’s – only she wasn’t my regular doctor, who is from Bangladesh and is very sweet, lovely, and kind. I adore her. My “dream” doctor, on the other hand, was pale and blond, and she had an attitude –she reminded me of the ladies at Fox News. She was too young, too skinny, too glam, too made up, just too damn perfect – too intimidating. But she was my doctor, and I needed her for whatever ailed me (unknown as to what that was – isn’t it odd how dreams often leave out important information?). “I’m going to be honest with you, Jennifer,” she said, standing away from me, taking care not to touch me. “You can’t be my patient anymore.” “What?” My doctor was breaking up with me? How could I not see this coming? But I hadn’t. I felt sick in the pit of my stomach. “You’ll have to...

The author mostly off camera _________________________ I’m taking a break from meetings at Weight Watchers, now known as WW, although I’ll probably continue weighing in. This has not been an easy decision; WW has been my second home for the past two and a half years – it was there when I needed it most, and I’m forever grateful. However, for the past year or so, my uneasiness has slowly grown, first as a nagging little voice letting me know that all wasn’t right, at least for me, to full-blown discontent. Before I offer my reasons for pulling back, let me first affirm what I still love about WW. 1.     The program itself is sound, emphasizing a life-style change, as opposed to “being-on-a diet.” Because of this focus, I have, within a 16-pound window, kept the weight off for over a year and a half, something I have never done before. 2.     The people, both the other members and the staff, are very welcoming. No one has ever said a mean...

“I wish I could walk like her.” A woman, about my age and hobbling with a cane, said this to her younger male companion, possibly her son or caretaker. I had never seen this pair before this day, but I greeted them as I do everyone on my walk. They nodded in my direction and moved on, to the yard sale down the street. The comment was not meant for my ears, but I’m always hyper-aware around strangers, especially in a neighborhood teetering on the edge – one reason I don’t listen to music on my outside walks. My hearing sharp, I could hear the woman’s plaintive wish, half a block away. I felt a little shamed. Here I was, bouncing around and walking fast, and… Feeling sorry for myself. I had just made the painful decision to go back on my CPAP – I could feel myself slipping into old habits: sleeping late, going to bed late, getting up late, eating as if were just coming out of a famine, and slacking off on my walks – for me, the last bastion of healthy body weight...

Unhappy CPAP'er _________________ “I’m backkkk…” Fewer than two months after posting The “Why” and Conversations with My CPAP   …Back on the CPAP. All it took was the Thanksgiving weekend and pretty much unchecked eating for about a week. Seven pounds later and much self-reflection, I have concluded that I was beginning to slip back into the old ways of binge eating, chronic sleepiness, depression, insomnia, and belly bloat. Despite my happy diagnosis of no more Sleep Apnea, I may have shucked the CPAP too soon – a bitter pill to swallow. But it’s better to face this now , and not wait until I have packed on 50 or more pounds, especially when I have the tools to stop it. Looking back, I now realize that the above symptoms were beginning to return shortly after I put away the CPAP, especially the chronic hunger. I just chalked it up to being in Iowa and Washington, D.C., away from my comfortable environment. When I returned home, the symptoms continued, but ...

The fact that logic cannot satisfy us awakens an almost insatiable hunger for the irrational. ~A. N. Wilson Meet my appetite: The voracious monster and – The Empty Yawning Chasm. If left unchecked, The Chasm will create havoc. Much of my life has been spent staving it off, and woe-be-onto-me should I ignore its first signs. The Chasm retains a tight leash on me, reminding me of the numerous impulses within to grab the first thing at hand, usually a fatty crunchy carb or fast food, typically fried in grease. (An aside: Last week, while on my walk, I slipped, almost landing on my ass, on a smelly grease stain deposited by Chick-fil-A in the alleyway behind its property – think about that as you take your next bite of its classic chicken sandwich. How that stuff must grease up one’s colon like a colonoscopy prep – we oldsters think a lot about such connections.) I have been told that humans living in First World Countries have never experienced gut-wrenching hunger...