Back When I Was Fat. *A nostalgic look at day before yesterday.

Today my BMI fell back into the normal range. BOOM. Okay, it was because I adjusted the scale. BUT STILL. 

The scale I owned before, you’d stand on it and it’d read 115 pounds (HAHAHAHAHA) and then you’d step off it, give it a second then get back on, and it’d read 127 pounds (HAHAHAHAHAHA). I even got six pounds of weights and held those to see if it’d say, you know, six pounds more.

With the weights, I weighed 297 pounds.

So Ned got me a different scale, mostly because he doesn’t own a scale, cause he weighs himself at the gym, but it annoyed him to come to my house to learn he’d both gained and lost 40 pounds in 14 seconds. “What’s with your SCALE?” he asked.

He got me a Weight Watcher’s brand, and you can set it up to tell you your body fat (I’m at around 100%), bone density (my bones are very smart), how much water you have in your body at any given time (I’m filled with 98% irritation) and then of course your weight. Oh, and your BMI, which was the whole point of this diatribe.

So, see, I used to be 5’6″ (and weigh 113 pounds. Oh, college, how I miss you. And that was 113 with a PERM, which had to weigh more), but in my dotage I’ve lost half an inch, which is what he said. The scale won’t allow you to enter half inches, which is what I say. So when I initially gave the scale my info, I told it I was 5’5″.

Today I got annoyed. Why’d I have to deny myself that half inch? (Which is what she–oh, you get my drift.) So I made myself 5’6″ and now my BMI is good. I just realized really stalky readers (if there were a scale here, it’d read Stalky Readers: 99%) will now go look at a chart and figure out approximately what I weigh now. Go ahead, Rudeness.

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So now that I’m thin again, I can really embrace life.

Oh, and speaking of embracing life and my hobbies and so forth, I have a new thing I hate. It’s good to expand one’s repertoire.

Do you ever read articles on someone’s online behavior? For example, let’s say, to throw a scenario out there, Donald Trump tweets something dippy at 4 a.m. Then the news tells us what he said.

“Donald Trump Tweets that Hezbollah is His Favorite Side Dish,” the article will read, and then it will tell you the story, showing the tweet: “Hezbollah is fantastic. There’s nothing like it. Delicious.”

Then underneath the screen shot of the tweet? “Hezbollah is fantastic. There’s nothing like it. Delicious,” the president said in a tweet Tuesday.

WHY DO THEY ALWAYS HAVE TO REPEAT WHAT WE JUST READ? Why? WE KNOW HOW TO READ A SCREEN SHOT.

I realize any news story that reports on a tweet is kind of a shitty news story anyway. And the story I was reading was actually about Chris Pratt’s breakup, and I don’t even know who Chris Pratt is. Some vanilla-looking dude, from what I can tell.

Anyway, it annoys. It’s like when you had to write a 500-word paper for school, and you were careful to always write “it is” instead of it’s so you’d have one more word.

In other news, (“In other news,” June wrote), I had a mole removed yesterday. I wasn’t that nervous about it, but it turned out to be a little more harrowing than I’d planned. It was a real procedure, with scalpels and stitches and everything.

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No, I’m not taping this conversation. Why?

When it was over, I returned to work, because trouper. My boss isn’t even IN this week, and neither is HIS boss. Totally could have gotten away with an afternoon on the couch watching The Price is Right and The Edge of Night.

But I did not, because I had a newsletter-planning meeting with m’staff, m’loyal staff, m’subjects, and I’ve never missed a meeting yet in four years of being editor of the fine company newsletter. So I dragged my post-major-surgery self to the meeting area, and?

No one came.

Once, my friend David, who is Italian and Catholic, had a grandmother who was similarly Italian and Catholic. Once, no one remembered that grandmother’s birthday. Look, his whole family was very set it and forget it. There were 942 kids, and they were all provided for very handsomely, and his parents came to his swim meets and so on, don’t get me wrong. But hover they did not. He was the last of the 942 kids, and there was a lot of “You’re fine” and “Shake it off.”

He’s one of the best-adjusted people I know.

However, that Italian grandma’s 612 children and grandchildren were a little TOO hands off, because one time in high school when David and I were looking through the family album and giggling, I came across his short beleaguered grandma frowning mournfully and holding a cake that read “Happy birthday to me” in the icing.

I wish I had the photo, so then I could put it up here and write under it, “Happy birthday to me,” the cake read.

“Oh my god, what is the story here?” I asked David, as if all the pieces weren’t right in front of me. Turns out, yes, I know it’s hard to guess, but it turns out no one remembered Grandma, so she MADE A WHOLE CAKE and sent that guilt-inducing photo to all her kids. I love that they saved it in the family album.

Why the fuck was I telling you this story? Oh, right, the newsletter meeting.

I sent the most martyred grandma-cake email to the newsletter staff, with that pitiful bandaged picture, saying how despite my pain and wooziness I’d cobbled together ideas anyway [DISCLAIMER: The one chick who comes up with good ideas without fail had already given me most of the ideas] and here they were and I hoped I’d have enough strength to hit Send.

Like one person wrote back. “Sorry.”

Whatever, staff members.

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But speaking of high school, my high school boyfriend Cardinal was perusing things from our hometown, who knows why, and he came across this picture of our childhood zoo, taken in 1969.

“Isn’t that YOU in the background?” he wrote. And you know what? That totally could be. I had dresses like that, I had 50 pounds of hair. I was at the zoo approximately 200 times a week. So, yes.

I loved going in that whale, which is what everyone who dated me said, back when I had that sky-high BMI. There were gerbils and spiders and fish and lizards in tanks in there. The whale. Not m’sugar walls.

I’d better get in the shower and go to work, as I have a full day of martyrdom up ahead of me. Plus, I have to fend off those questions of “Are you ill? Why are you so thin?” I’ll be swamped.

Sveltely,

Jun

(I got so thin, my “e” melted off.)

48 thoughts on “Back When I Was Fat. *A nostalgic look at day before yesterday.

  1. I need more info on this whale. Is there a bridge to go into the mouth of that thing? It honest to God looks like you have to jump over the water. Except what looks like one pipe stretching from the whale to the sloping thing where those hooligans are standing. (I say hooligans because you can tell from this picture that they are daring each other to get in the water.)

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    1. So right, Whitni! And while the class of school-hooligans is standing around (wait, is that girl looking down because someone was already pushed?), little Jun is wandering away on her own to feed the tigers, right?

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  2. That chart, I hate it. It says I’m overweight. And the very idea of having an underweight section, that doesn’t even compute in my brain.

    You are such a brave person facing the surgery and all.

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  3. OMG, you’re so skinny! Why are you so thin???? And you are so great to have attended that meeting after all you’d been through with the mole removal.

    My doctor’s office has a really bitchy-ass sly way of telling you that you’re BMI is too high. It’s a two-step bitchiness and it makes me want to die. First, when you’re in the office, and the super tiny, bubbly assistant weighs you, and the resulting BMI is in the overweight whelm, the bubbly assistant’s eyes darken for a moment and she hands you a sheet about proper diet, with no explanation of why. Then, when you get your invoice several weeks or months later after insurance pays their part, there’s this LOVELY comment on the invoice itself about what happened at the visit — could include blood draw, examination, and OH! BMI > normal. “BMI was greater than normal.” GREATER THAN NORMAL?!?! So between the sheet of proper diet and the spelling out that I’m overweight on the bill, I want to curl up and die. Because at least then, I’d be skinny.

    But hey, I guess being called Greater Than Normal could be seen as a good thing, outside of the BMI bitchiness.

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    1. Geez! I know I don’t need to do this, but, I see I used you’re and not your when I should have. Heh. I used Greater Than Normal grammar. No?

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    2. My ex-mother-in-law, when she was at the doctor, would wear the lightest clothing she could find, no jewelry, and she’d remove her shoes, hair and skin before she got on that scale. I hate that humiliating moment. The good news for me is, this is the South, and usually those nurses are thicker than I am.

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      1. It *is* humiliating! I hate it so much. I wish the women in that office were thicker, but even if they were, they’d still have to hand me that damn food sheet. And report my BMI on my invoice.

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      2. Whenever I would start back up at Weight Watchers, for my first weigh-in, I’d wear multiple layers of heavy sweats. You know, the old-fashioned bulky cotton kind. Then the next week I’d wear 2 strips of gauze so that I’d be guaranteed to have lost clothing weight at the very least and could feel like I had accomplished something and get that star sticker for my weekly log.

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      3. I make sure I have a facial the day before ( to rid myself of dead skin) and I wear sandals, because they don’t tell you to take your shoes off anymore. Plus, I always make an early appointment so I skip breakfast. It’s not an easy game.

        I cannot believe that at 5’2 and 100 pounds you are not classified as “underweight” on that chart. What would be the point of losing weight if that wasn’t an option?

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    3. Hey, one time after being weighed, the sprite of a nurse looked me up and down and said. “I wouldn’t think you’re obese to look at you. ” Talk about humiliating.

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      1. It’s muscle, little sprite lady. It’s MUSCLE. I hate it so much. No wonder we all have body image issues. They just shouldn’t tell us this stuff and then give us all these charts to make us feel awful about it. The worst is when I’m feeling really good, have been eating and exercising well, and then: THE FOOD SHEET. Next time I see that they will have to hand it to me, I’m going to say, I refuse the sheet, thanks. I left it in the exam room last time. Should have sneezed on it.

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          1. Oooh, great idea! Or dribble some caramel sauce on it. And say, mmmmm, fiber. And wash it down with a Coke. Not Diet or Zero.

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  4. I am also 5’5 1/2″. Twinsies! Except you are much thinner than I am. My BMI is “hippo.”

    I LOVED Chris Pratt on Parks & Rec. Loved, loved, loved, and why haven’t you watched that show, Jun? Amy Poehler and Aubrey Plaza and Aziz Ansari and Nick Offerman and Megan Mullally! I’m not a big sitcom person, but it’s so good. Chris Pratt’s movies are stupid. Guardians of the Galaxy, Jurassic Park, that one with Jennifer Lawrence. He is hot, but basically plays the same character all the time. Even in the Lego movie he was a dumb, goofy white guy.

    Your glasses are super cute.

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  5. i refuse to know the number. i will allow the nurse to weigh me but i’m very specific with “I DO NOT want to know my weight”. I close my eyes and don’t open them until I hear the clickety click of those weights being put back to zero. I will say that on my last visit i was informed that i have been consistently loosing weight. now excuse me while i go eat my chocolate covered donut.

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    1. I won’t let the nurse at my primary care doctor tell me the number either. I have a note on my file at my gynecologist not to weigh patient. Because really, what does my weight matter to him. Several years ago a nurse came to our home to get my blood pressure, weight, family history, and I forget what all else for insurance purposes. I refused to get on her scale. We had a stand off. She told me she was going to write on her formal form that patient refused for psychological reasons. Told her I didn’t care she was not weighing me. My weight had no bearing whatsoever on our insurance. She huffed. She called her supervisor. She pitched a fit and then flounced out of my home. But, she didn’t weigh me.
      Lovely post, lovely June.

      Liked by 2 people

  6. Those weight charts are ridiculous anyway. My husband is 5’10” tall, weighs 185, and has 15% body fat and is considered overweight. So my doctor is correct: BMR isn’t everything nor is it always a good measurement. I’m holding on to that because when he also told me I’ve gone from 5’6 to 5’5 and 1/4, I told him I didn’t want to know my weight as I’m sure I’d need to be 7 feet tall to be in the normal weight range.

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  7. Sugar walls. Can’t stop giggling.
    That is totally you in the background of the zoo picture!
    I don’t have a scale, so I weigh at the Y when I go there to exercise – but only in the morning, never in the evening. (What, am I crazy?! no way). The absolute BEST news here is that the Y scale weighs a bit heavy, so when I go to the doctor, I always weight a bit less. Makes my day!

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  8. One of the attorneys I work for tried to buy a candy bar in the news stand in our building. The lady working in there told her she was getting chubby and would not sell her a candy bar. I would have punched her in the nose.

    I never let my doctor’s office weigh me. I know I’m huge. They know I’m huge. We don’t need a number for them to make sure I don’t have any sort of lady part issues.

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  9. Ok I am also now 5′ 5.5″ and a few years ago, after I lost a billion pounds, I weighed 185. I never did get in the normal range. I sat at that weight for over a year, never budged a pound no matter what I did or didn’t do. I tried to lose more and everyone told me not to. Said i looked ‘drawn’. So you must be rail thin. Good for you.

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  10. I got some really sad family news today and am moping along when I decide to read one of the most hilarious June posts I can remember – from the grandma cake story (I love that probably-dead-now woman) to the ‘so skinny the e melted off’ – and then the comments this morning are hysterical!

    Carry on you hilarious BMI overachievers (as am I)!

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  11. Jun, I read this post early this morning and it was my only laugh of the day. As usual, thanks.
    My driver’s license says I’m 5’7″ (thought I was 5’6″), and that puts me in the normal BMI range. That’s now my story and I’m sticking to it.
    Okay (takes deep breath). PLEASE forgive me for hijacking your not-blog, but I desperately need help. I am a social media moron, know nothing about it (I think I have a FB page but I usually can’t find it), and I’m hoping your readers can help me out. I need to start a GoFundMe page (or whatever), and I don’t know how to do it. When I read this I was at the hospital waiting for my 85 y/o mother, who was having a procedure. On the way home, a very bored cop pulled me over because he scanned my license plate and no info came back. I haven’t been able to re-register my car in years, my license is expired, and the car’s uninsured. My crime was driving while broke…the car’s 19 years old and barely runs. I haven’t been able to work for the last several years because I’ve been taking care of my mother, my father, until he died, and my brother, who is in end-stage renal failure and has dialysis three days a week. I was going to go back to work last year no matter what happened, because the stress of not having enough money to live like human beings was worse than worrying about what was happening to them at home–and was diagnosed with bladder cancer. Good times.
    We cannot live without that car. I don’t know what to do. I’m so numb that I haven’t even researched how much it’s going to cost to get everything legal again, but it might as well be a million dollars. During the time I’ve been out of work I’ve gone through every last cent I ever had, sold everything of value, and even cashed out my pension. We’re lucky to get through the month (last month I had to go to the food bank). I’m completely screwed, and wondering how I’m even going to get to the store to get cat food today, never name to the seven doctor’s appointments through the end of August, OR the dialysis center. I have no relatives or friends I can call on. You’d be surprised how fast friends bail when you’re forced to live like this.
    Again please forgive me for running on and whining, but I don’t know anyone with the expertise to help me do the GoFundMe thing and thought somebody here might know. I’ve thought of doing it before, but was too embarrassed. Now I can’t afford pride (or anything else!), and I figure if someone could raise thousands of dollars for potato salad, I might as well give it a try.
    Thanks again for the laughs. You have no idea what a difference it makes to a lot of us.
    .

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    1. @Yet Another Lori, I just looked at gofundme.com and there is a button there to start a campaign and all you need is an email address. I suspect it’s intuitive. Beyond all that though, just wanted to say that I’m sorry to hear about your situation and I hope you see some relief soon.

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      1. Thanks Green. I’ve been looking at it and got a little overwhelmed with all the mention of Facebook this and that. I wish I had a 12-year-old I could rent to help me figure it all out!

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        1. Lori, it sounds like you have immediate needs. I have worked with clients in the past who called churches and a lot of churches have emergency funds on hand for situations like yours. It may only be $60 or $100 but that can add up to provide some relief. Also call the crisis center in your area, sometimes they have an emergency fund too. Call during the day when you can get actual staff on the phone is good. Calling large churches with a more youthful congregation can be helpful too, they typically have generous funds to work with. Good luck. It’s scary to deal with one of those situations much less all of them together.

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      2. Yes. Go the the GFM page – you don’t need to hire anyone or have any expertise to open a page. I hope things turn around for you quickly.

        Liked by 1 person

  12. With Jun’s e melting off, I just realized the correlation between my name and my girth…

    Signed,
    GreenInOCwhoisnotmeltingawaybutexpandingwhydocheesecakeandpotatoescountandnotjustintention

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  13. Ok, when you complain about how fat you are getting and then I find out that you weigh 5 lbs. LESS than me and are 2 inches TALLER than me, I believe I now have cause to hate you just a little bit … hehe! I’m happy to hear that WW is working for you.

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  14. You don’t have to be weighed in the doctor’s office. Just tell them no and walk on. I haven’t been weighed at a doctor’s office in forever. If the doctor needs my actual weight for an actual procedure, then I will…..but to do it every time you go in is ludicrous. P.S. It was a nurse who told me you didn’t have to get weighed if you don’t want to. It’s not like it’s a state law or anything. Just say no, people!

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  15. Oh my gosh… I am LOLing today at these comments. I had a stand off with the nurse at my doctor’s office one time when I refused to get on the scale. I was there for STREP THROAT. I said “is being obese causing my throat to hurt? No? Then my weight is irrelevant to this appointment.” The same nurse informed me at another visit that I weighed more than I did when I was nine months pregnant and asked me “does that surprise you?” Really? No. Did my hand down your throat ripping out your voice box surprise YOU?

    Lovely lovely post June, you svelte thing you. Did they have to send your mole for testing?

    Yet Another Lori – I am so sorry for all the stress in your life. I hope you can find your way to some relief.

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  16. Ok, for the fist thing about the tweets? Sometimes those tweet boxes don’t imbed and render correctly on a feed reader or mobile site and I can’t see them so I have to rely on the caption. That’s all I can think of.
    For the weight business- I had to go to the doctor today for my “wrist Injury from tripping and falling in front of a bus” ™ that won’t heal and I was actually excited to weigh since I’ve lost 18lbs. And I’ve done it with that Contrave medicine which he prescribed so I was hoping he would mention it and he IGNORED MY WEIGHT and PERFECT fat person blood pressure of 110/71. IGNORED! The audacity.

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  17. I also hate that fucking chart. Holy Hell. I’ve got a long way to go to even touch overweight.
    I didn’t hate you before, Jun, but now I totally do. Stomping off to find those hate sites now…

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  18. Meh, I never worry about the weight thing. I think because I’ve been so over-tall and over-weight my whole life, that I take my weight at the doctor’s office like “Wow, only that much?” and comfort myself with the fact that I can probably beat up everybody in that office. I was almost 11 pounds at birth and longer than normal too. I think that prepared me for the inevitable life of girth. Also, my mother has hated me ever since.

    The chart says I’m obese. Go, me! Hey, I’m already almost 6′ tall, I need to grow another foot at least, to be the right weight. Awesome.

    I’ll take obese over morbidly obese (as is noted on my medical chart), any day.

    Good for you, June, being normal BMI now. I’m sure that makes you feel much better about yourself.

    Liked by 1 person

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