Sunday, June 24, 2012

Diagnosis: Overweight

Recently, I had to go to the gynecologist for the usual yearly visit. The visit itself was uneventful, which is good, and then the nurse handed me my discharge papers. I walked out to meet my sister in the waiting room and casually glanced at them as we walked out of the office. Under the "diagnosed as" column, I saw a word that took me off guard: "overweight".
Mildly horrified, I laughed it off and told my sister it must be some sort of mistake. She asked me what my BMI was. I know nothing about BMI, so I told her it was 25.06, and she then informed me that anything over a 25 is, in fact, considered overweight.
Oh my god.
I had a brief moment of terror, staring at my thighs, and then we got in the car and drove to Applebee's.
If this was my wake up call, I hit snooze. I'm happy with my body. I may not be supermodel thin, but I take an odd amount of pride in being able to beat my guy friends in a White Castle eating contest. My body has served me well. Sure, sometimes when I put on a tank top I curse that little bit of fat by my armpits, but I really could have bigger problems. In the grand scheme of my life, being skinny is not my ultimate goal. I'd much rather spend my time writing than busting my ass on a treadmill.
Of course, being the attention whore I am, for several days following my fateful diagnosis I took up the habit of dramatically saying "I'm OVERWEIGHT!" when my boyfriend tried to get me to go get ice cream, but that was more for my love of good natured-ly annoying the shit out of him.  Luckily, he still loves me, belly fat and all.
I can't say I've gained some sort of enlightenment about my figure that other women don't have. I'd be lying if I said I was never self conscious. Sometimes I wish I had a stomach flat enough to pull of wearing a bandeau, which are those trendy half shirt things they sell at American Apparel that hip skinny girls love to wear, but then I remember it's really essentially just a bra. And I don't want to wear just a bra in public no matter how trendy it is.
I even considered adding a picture of myself to this post so that anyone reading could join in my anguish, saying, "Oh my gosh, she's considered overweight?! What is the world coming to?!" But that would defeat the purpose of what I'm saying here. I am happy with my body: I don't need everyone else to be too.
Now I'm going to go make waffles.

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