The world is full of humor, happiness and wonder.
The world is also doomed by ridiculous amounts of greed, hypocrisy and suffering.
Here, the two interact in harmony.

Thursday, April 26, 2007

I carry my weight well

Estimated reading time: 1 minute, 48 seconds

"If you don't mind me asking . . ." said the guy who sits across from me at work. "But how much do you weigh?"

(For the split second after I heard the preface "If you don't mind me asking" my feeling was part fear, part excited anticipation. Anytime that statement precedes a question, the possibilities are endless. Have you ever shot someone in the face while hunting? How often would you say you are drunk at work?)

"If you forgive me for not answering, I'll forgive you for asking," I responded, turning my cheek and tilting my nose toward the ceiling.

Boo-yah! Take that! Asking me such a personal question. Shame on you! Shame on us all. I'm embarrassed for you, sir.

Actually I didn't really say that. It was a comeback Dear Abby advised a number of years ago to use when someone asks you a personal or embarrassing question. But I should have said it, not because I took offense to the question, but because it would have been quite humorous. As it turned out, I didn't mind providing an answer.

"205," I said.

"Really!?" he responded, with a bit more surprise in his voice than I had hoped. I questioned his reaction.

"Oh, it's just . . . you carry your weight well," he said.

This is something no one had ever said to me. I tried to figure out what this actually meant. I carry my weight well?

After some thought, I figured out that what he was really saying was that, by looking at me and my round face, he would have thought I weighed a lot more than 205. So rather than "you carry your weight well," he should have said "You know you're really not as obese as you look." Suddenly a euphemistic phrase turns into an emotionally-scarring insult.

But if I had to choose, carrying my weight well beats the alternative. I'd rather weigh 205 and appear to be 190 than to severely restrict my calories and exercise like mad to drop 15 pounds and actually weigh 190.

Because in the end, unless somebody asks (which apparently is not unheard of), no one really knows how much I weigh. If I look 190, I am 190.

Now bring on the chicken tenders.

1 comment:

April said...

I wonder if the people at the county fair would have guessed 190. Honestly, I would have guessed 185. Don't think I will be getting that job at the fair.