Letters from Fat Camp

I think diets were designed by people who don't need to diet. Otherwise, why would they be so hard?

A few summers ago, I worked at a women's weight loss facility, and even though I actually had a woman say to me, "What happens at fat camp stays at fat camp" I'm going to go ahead and write about it anyway. I spent every spare second I had in the bookstore. I was enamored by the genre of self-help weight loss books. They had so much in common: similar clean, fresh cover designs, a picture of the thin author on the inside cover with a brief history of her (always HER) weight loss struggles, written at a forth grade reading level, geared 100% towards a female audience, though each book would occasionally and tritely reference men. The one thing none of the books had in common was the actual method of losing weight. More water? Less water? Only meat and cheese? Only raw foods? Only positive thoughts? Only eat when your sitting down, and never at night. But then, maybe it doesn't matter where or when you eat, but only eat when your hungry. They all explored blame; your mother making you think you could only be pretty if you were thin, your father forcing you to clean your plate, your competitive sibling, your stressful boss, your friends making you fat by forcing you to socialize with them. Damn your socializing friends! But its never your fault. You're just a fat product of a fat design.

I read almost every book in that store (not really that impressive. they had like ten books) and I didn't lose a pound. I'm not sure, but its possible that losing weight isn't as easy as reading about losing weight. I'm not sure who these books actually inspire, but they must inspire someone, because the only things getting published more often that weight loss books are Danielle Steel novels. Even if they do inspire, I don't think they're designed to work. If there was a book that fat women could read, and it made them get up and lose weight, they'd stop reading. And the market would crumble. The trick is to inspire them just enough to feel positive, but not enough to take action. Like a movie about global warming.

Caution

I've been having a hard time getting dressed recently. Its getting colder, and my summer clothes aren't really reasonable, but my winter clothes are driving me crazy. While in storage over the summer, my entire wardrobe shrunk. Like magic or something. All my clothes from last season are tight on me. So,because I can't afford go out and get new clothes, I've had to get creative as I try to find outfits for work. Last Monday was a failed attempt. I tried to go for a sort of loose top with a tank top under it, to cover my middle parts the best I could. Except my tank top kept riding up in the back, and my baggy shirt kept slipping down in the front. You've heard of casual Friday? Well, this was more like, Dress like a whore Monday.

Despite the slight "Northern Exposure" I was toting all day, I thought I pulled it off. 'It' being the hiding of the post-summer bulge. To test how well I did, I fished.

"I haven't felt very good about myself recently." I said with a frown, as I led my boyfriend down a fatal path. I pulled at my shirt-- a blatant hint! Without looking at me, hopefully without thinking, he said,

"You should try running."

Stay tuned for my next few posts which will undoubtedly involve dieting.

I Hate Women.

Some of the most successful bouts of self-loathing I have ever experienced were brought on by logic-less comments made by women. This post is devoted to a few of the women I work with.

Most people would say their weight fluctuates, it seems natural enough. Every year I gain and lose the same 10 or so pounds and try not to think that much of it. I mean, I'm over worked, and underpaid, and stressed about my future and global warming and the nation's economy, -- I really don't need to add another insecurity to that list. That being said however, I work with women, and it is a well known fact that women will not rest until you are crippled by insecurities about every aspect of your life.

Yesterday, I was chatting with the ladies who work next door, and I mentioned that we ate dinner at my boyfriend's parent's house last night. The older of the two women said "And how old are you??" and when I told her she curled up her lip, "And you're STILL mooching off your parents??" Because if women ever find even a kernel of doubt in you, they will put heat on it until it explodes. And remember that.

That same day, the co-worker whom I work most closely with asked me what I did this weekend.
FACT: When a woman asks you what you did this weekend, in reality, she doesn't care. She is simply fishing for a topic with which she will make you feel like shit about. And I know this, but for whatever reason, I excitedly told her about the new restaurant I found with my friends, and the squash soup I had there. She immediately stated, "If you keep eating all that milk you're going to get chubby." Milk. I'm being advised to avoid milk in my formative years because it is MILK that will make me fat. Yes, I'm sure it's the milk. Not the beers, or the chips, or the hot wings, or the heavy dinners. Its milk.

On that same thread, a few days ago, I was joking with the doctor about how poor I am. I told her about how my boyfriend and I eat rice with every meal (nearly true,-- at least five nights a week) and last week we were busted by our friends eating just rice with hot sauce for dinner (true. and embarrassing). -- I'll admit that this time, it was MY mistake to share that information; I should know better. Women have notoriously bad senses of humor. She snipped at me, "You shouldn't be eating rice at all. You'll get all thicker in your middle."

Thick-er. Great.

Oh Horriffic Embarrassment

Getting your foot in your own mouth is a universal problem in the greater New England area. In the rural areas, the fault lies in people who have poor conversational skills attempting to make meaningful conversation. It should be enough to ask me how I am, and then confirm that they too are doing well, but it never is.

I was pushing my grocery cart up to the casheir counter, and the 30-something casheir says to me, "Isn't it so hard to try to diet on a budget?" And I looked at her, then into grocery cart, then at myself. What was it about any of these things that said I was on a diet? Or, worse, what was it about me that said I was on a budget?!

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I was buying scrubs for work recently, and the casheir said to me, "Oh, you must be a nurse!" And its true, I do work in the medical field, but I'm not a nurse. My boyfriend says, "No, she's just planning on getting fat."

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Which reminds me...
Ever have a sex dream about a co-worker, then when you're at work and they give you this look, this 'I know what you did, you sick pervert.', look? Or worse, you feel as if they're tormenting you, you ask for a pen and they say "Yeah, you want it??" And even though its completely impossible, you still can't help but wonder to yourself 'how do they know this?!' and then you promptly avoid eye contact for the rest of the time you're working there.

Joke of the day: All the girls I knew in college were bi. I'd mention sex and they'd just raise their hands and say 'Bye!'