I’m shallow.

And, in certain circumstances, I’m vain.

Over the last few weeks I decided that, at forty, I wanted to get healthy. My genetic predisposition to acquire diabetes and high blood pressure would be fought with any instrument that I could wield, and dad gum it, I would lose weight, too! So I started a regimen of exercise, eating better, and eating less.

So a friend of mine, Yolanda, and I have been walking and baby-steps jogging in the morning on a track and walking on a not-so-straight terrain at night. We are focused, we are determined, and dad gum it, we will lose weight!

So we’ve been doing what we’ve been doing and she suggested that, since the scale that she has is askew and since I believe mine has the same illness, we should go to the health department. The next day, yesterday, she called me and said that she did it. I figured, why not go there. It is a digital weight scale instead of the balance scale or whatever the name of it is, and the least I could do is give myself a solid starting place.

This day, I go to the health department. I know a couple of women who have known me since I was a tweener (or whatever they call them thare folk) and I was in high spirits. We had conversation and yacked about a lot of things when I remembered why I was there. I was lead to a scale and one of my friends said that she was going to turn her head. I took off my flip flops (for those of you who don’t know, thongs or shower shoes may be a better name for them) and stepped on the scale. My head turned downward to look at the number. After the shifting of numbers that first rapidly sped upward then moved back and forth for a few moments, I got the number.

And it happened. I realized two things when I looked at the number.

200.8 lbs.

The first thing that hit me was to tell the woman that she had to step outside while I strip naked because I know that I must be wearing at least nine-tenths of a pound of clothing and that I need to take off these clothes because there is no way that I could possibly weigh over 200 pounds.

The second thing that came to me: I have never known a woman that weighed 200.8 pounds and looked good wearing it. Never, never, NEVER.

Then a third thing came to me and here is the thing that shows how shallow I am if the first two facts didn’t do it for you. I am not as pretty as I thought I was and that I was much skinnier than what I complained about when I weighed 141 in my adolescence.

In my defense, I am a tall and solidly built woman. My body was made to make women who wear size-six clothing appear nearly anorexic. I would be good friends with Jill Scott, Queen Latifah, Monique’, and Pam Grier.

So here I am, standing before you on this date at over 200 pounds.

No, dad gum it. Less. My clothes MUST weigh at least 2 pounds.

Labels: My Writing