As a mother, we can find time for everything but ourselves.  Before children or a child in my case, I will have to admit that I was fine.  Remember the song, “She’s A Brick House”, well that was me.  I prided myself in being able to walk in a room and make the boys drool.  Yes, I was a little vain - don’t judge - most of you have been there.  On a positive note, I know now that if I had to choose one of the three B’s:

beauty, body, and brains.

 I would choose the brain.

Okay let’s move forward from Pre-historic times into present day…..

Six years later, I find myself looking down at something that does not look like it should belong to me.  What is it you ask?

A really fat tummy!

I have been looking at it for a while and thinking that I should do something about it.  I even took a boot camp and started exercising with a friend, but soon I let life get in the way.  I have not seen the inside of a gym in months.

I have to change!

The last few visits to the doctor have shown that my blood pressure was border line.  So guess what he gives me.  Yes, that’s right!

Drugs

I don’t even like to take vitamins so drugs are a BIG No No for me.   I cannot accept my fate.  I am not ready for medication.  I need a plan B immediately.  So what do I do?  I ask the question….

“What Can I do?  I don’t want to be on drugs.  I am too young.”

My doctor appears to be very puzzled. You know that kind of monkey-doing-a-math-problem-puzzle look on his face.

“You don’t want to be on the medication?  It will take care of the problem.”

Of course you have to give him the “you idiot” look and calmly ask,

“Who wants to be on medication if there is a means for preventing it?”

It is a fair question.  I cannot believe he did not think of it himself.  We’ll blame it on it being late morning and he is tired.  He sits down in front of me.  Doctors usually do this just before they hit you with the bad news.  I knew that I did not have one of the “Big” illnesses because he would have called me in for that. “Why the hell is he sitting down?” I ask myself.  ”Why does he have a worried look on his face?”  He grabs a pad.  By now I am rolling my eyes.  He is getting dramatic.  I don’t even like dramatic on a kid, so on a doctor, you can imagine how silly that looks.

He pulls the top from a permanent marker and writes something in kindergarten size letters on the pad.  He turns the pad around.

Oh Heck!

It’s MY WEIGHT - there in BLACK AND WHITE!

“Wow that is a large number, is your scale broken?”

He He He He

He looks at me as if he wanted to pop me upside the head.  Instead…

I get the medical speech about weight.  According to The Center for Disease Control and Prevention, you are obese.  (You have to imagine that statement voiced by someone who is now looking at me like I am an uneducated moron.)

I don’t feel obese.  I have purchased a few size 14s lately, but it was for comfort.  Honest it was.  (I hear you as I am writing this saying, “RIGHT” ~ it is my story so let me believe that for a few minutes ~ reality will come later down in the article.)  I can hear him talking about 44% of African Americans are overweight and it is due to our fatty diets.  But I will have to admit, all I got from that was…….

“DID YOU JUST CALL ME FAT?”

 I said in my best ghetto voice.  And, anyone who knows me understands that for me this meant that I had to borrow [it] from some ancestor’s voice way back in time because I just don’t have that in me.

“No, I did not call you FAT.  I said that according to The Center for Disease Control and Prevention, you are OBESE.”

Okay folks, he just called me obese and hid behind some web site that I will later go on and leave a not so nice message.

“YOU HAVE TO LOSE WEIGHT or GO ON MEDICATION!”

Okay, okay that part is clear.  So, I role my “fat” body out of the doctor’s office trying to convince myself that I was holding my Dooney and Burke bag at the time I got on the scale.  I carry a large bag and I keep everything in there.  I have a child so you need the basics – Band-Aids, juice, Pediasure, crayons, paper, Nintendo DS, candy, liquor store coupons.  You know “just the basics”.

I picked up my medication from the pharmacy and listened to the technician explain to me how to take the medication.  As he is talking, I look around at all the people who are still waiting for their medication.  And something clicked inside me.  I am fat, but I don’t have to be.  I vowed that I would not refill the prescription without putting in some effort to get out of the category of the 44%.  I want to be in the 56% of African Americans who are not overweight.

When I get home, I persuade my friend who was visiting for two weeks to be my weight loss partner.  She said yes.  Maybe that was because she knew she could block my number when she got back to Phoenix.

It is Monday, June 25th, time to execute my plan.  It has been a couple of weeks since I got the bad news.  On that chilly day, I step on the scale to find that I was closer to the 200lb mark than the 150 mark.

As much as I hated it and really didn’t want to know, I needed to find out what the healthy weight range was for my height.  For my height, my ideal weight is between 136 and 167.  The good news is that I need to lose less than 50 pounds to find myself somewhere in the middle.  So I begin my journey with a subscription to Weight Watchers Online, Fitness Ball, Insanity, Wii Fit, Exercise Mat, 3 Medicine Balls, and a new water bottle.

With that, in honor of my pending need to help my doctor see me as something other than “FAT” and my desire to be thinner and continue my path with no medication, Richly Middle Class would like to start your Maniac Monday off with a new water bottle.

So the first 3 people who leaves us the message:

“I Want To Get Fit With You!”

We will send you a Richly Middle Class water bottle.

 

Have A Great Maniac Monday,

 

Cynthia