Wednesday, November 9, 2011

Congratulations! You are Fat!

OK, you didn't think I could resist blogging for a whole month, did you?


I will be the first to admit that I’ve been Bad Attitude Girl at work lately. That’s kind of like Bat-Girl, but without the stupid cape and ears, and I don’t fight crime.

Aw, fuck it.  Ears are cute.

I usually eat lunch with a certain few coworkers. We are all survivors from the call center, and even though we’ve al l moved on, we remain close. Like a work family. Or maybe a gang.  Hooligans, maybe. The Ex-Smoker (most of us) Gang. Watch out or we’ll shake you down for your lunch money. We’re like the bad kids at work. We do things like race up the stairs, and walk on the benches outside and play on the exercise equipment instead of exercising on the path outside. We’re baaad.

Anyway, I gathered the gang members that were around and headed to the cafĂ©. We had to kind of rush it a little bit, but I noticed that they set up the benefits fair off in part of the cafeteria. I walked through the booths, and picked up a glasses repair kit from the vision insurance people, which is funny because I don’t wear glasses anymore, and headed back to my desk.  I can't help it.  I'm like a hoarder for free stuff.  Free stuff makes me feel good for about 10 seconds, and I needed a little pick-me-up.

Today I received my “biometric screening” for my insurance. It is a voluntary thing, and something I would generally skip if they didn’t pay me. But apparently, if I do this, plus do some other things, and then some other things, and jump through a few hoops, and maybe promise my firstborn son or something, they will give me $300 a year off on my health insurance. Woot.

So, I decided to go ahead and do it.

I knew that I had put on some weight, but I figured I it would be worth the humiliation so get back a little of the money that gets taken out of my paycheck. I have to do something to slow my wage erosion, after all.

“Hi! How are YOU?” said the lady behind the curtain.

Let’s back up and establish the scene here… Part of the cafetorium was sequestered off for this assessment. I had to schedule my time slot a week in advance, and I arrived promptly at 10AM. The instructions said I was supposed to fast before I got there, but Fuck. That. You don’t want to see me hungry, dude.

Anyway, I got there, filled out some paperwork, and then sat with the other bored employees for about 30 minutes while the insurance people scrambled to catch up. They may have overbooked slightly, or maybe they were just that slow.

My name was FINALLY called, and I went back behind curtain number 2.

When she asked me how I was, I kind of grunted, noncommittally. “OK, I guess.”

“You guess?” she said.

“Uh, yeah.”

She got a little huffy with that, apparently, everyone is supposed to be happy to be here and get their finger pricked by a total stranger.

Since I had eaten, they were just going to test my cholesterol (apparently normal, shhh! Don’t tell anyone! This is secret info, dude!) My waist circumference came out to 32 inches, which I was pretty happy with as it is 2 inches smaller than last year. I got to put “DOESN’T SMOKE” in the little check box and feel all proud and shit.

And then came the part I had been dreading.

Height and weight.  Well, more the weight part than the height, but they measure them both at the same time so they are linked.

I apparently grew a quarter of an inch from last year. Go me! I am 5’8” now! But the lady wouldn’t tell me my weight (that bitch!) because it was super duper secret, and they weren’t allowed to say any of the numbers out loud and blah blah blah. God I hated her.  Do you ever hate anyone for no reason?  Just me?  Never mind.

So I was sent back out into the cafetorium to be bored for another 10 minutes before I was brought to a little standalone cubicle to discuss my results with another random stranger who was way too happy. Seriously, where the fuck do these people come from?

The front of the packet said, “Congratulations!”

Opening the packet, everything was green green green (which I assume is a good thing), except for the BMI and Body Composition %. They were yellow. They both said, “Overweight.”

Thanks, biometric screening. I knew I had put on some weight, but I really didn’t need to hear it. “Congratulations, you fatass! Lose some weight! Look in the mirror, thunder thighs!” (And actually, my actual weight was lower than I anticipated, coming out to 173.5, which is 6.5 lbs lighter than the last time I got on a scale and had a psychological meltdown.)

Fuckers.

So anyway.

Maybe I should have a better attitude about it all. I mean, I learned that my blood pressure while stressed out and trying not to throttle anyone is 102/72, and that my cholesterol levels are “desirable”. I also found out that they checked my glucose even though I didn’t fast, and I was still within the normal range (which is shocking with my all-sugar diet).

But the fact of the matter is, I hate everything, and this biometric screening was just the topper.

I keep trying to turn my frown upsidown and be all happy and optimistic and shit, but every time I get to my desk at work, a little piece of my soul dies.

Sitting down, I opened up the little eyeglasses repair kit that I took from the vision insurance people.. It was pretty nice, a little screwdriver with multiple heads, and a magnifying glass.

I took out the magnifying glass, and magnified my keyboard, which is always gross. But the lens was all plastic and warped.

What the hell, dude? I am never going to be able to start a fire with this shit (not that I have the urge to burn anything down or anything).

Really, it's probably a good thing that I failed their "biometric screening."  I don't know exactly what they were screening for, after all.  They might just be looking for some good candidates to join their legion of the undead.

 

NaNoWriMo Update:  My word count as of  7:31 PM on November the 9th, is 18061. I am just under 2 days ahead of schedule.  That's a lot of words!  I have come to completely distrust my narrator, and I have huge fear that I am going to go back and read this on December 1 and the whole thing will look like it is written by a forth grader.  That's OK.  Keepin' on Keepin' on.  I am almost to the zombies, and everything will change, but first I have to write the bit about kittens.

29 comments:

Angie said...

I hate the body composition thing! The BMI thing is stupid too. I always want to beat the hell out of myself and maybe even shank myself when it's done.

Oh, and THOSE people aren't even real people. Robots or whatever they call them these days. No one is that happy about that job. I know real nurses and they are funny bitchy, but they aren't usually peppy or happy. Therefore, this event never ever happened! Not real! :)

thoughtsappear said...

18061---Congrats!

Zombies and kittens in the same story? Nice!

BMI, SchmeMI.

Keith said...

Why not have the zombies take the narrator out back and rough him up? In fact, you could have the kitties nibble on a piece or two of the narrator as he or she lies their in a stupor. Or have the narrator slip and fall at JUST the wrong moment when cleaning out the cat box they had ignored for a couple days.

Anyways, even though I'm looking at my weight every day now, I'm trying not to obsess about it. It's still a big number.

Keith said...

That's unless your narrator is a really, really classy one, up there in the "Oh for a muse of fire" class, and you just don't trust him, because, well, *I* don't know, maybe you haven't had your coffee yet or something, or are off your meds. But zombies and kittens are always good for a narrator.

Keith said...

And what about the space aliens and conspiracy theories? I am in a ferment of anticipation here!

Leauxra said...

Angie: Thanks for your confirmation. I thought I was losing my mind. And you're right. That MUST be robots. I mean, they work for an insurance company, after all.

Thoughtsy: I actually slacked last night and didn't make my normal minimum word count, but you know what? I wrote a blog thingy.

And oh yes, zombies + kitties = win!

Keith: Hah! HAHAHAHA. No no, can't trust her because I think the narrator might be lying, and the story didn't happen the way she said it did. It adds a bit of spice to the story (it is part of the conspiracy theory). I haven't quite figured out the aliens.

And I am not quite as upset as I made myself out to me about the whole pounds thing. Even though I am as heavy as I have ever been in my life, I am also in better shape, and can actually jog. Continuously. For more than a mile. IN A ROW. That hasn't happened since I was about 13 or so.

mistyslaws said...

I can't believe they would dare to put a big red (in my mind) OVERWEIGHT on that folder. I call bullshit on that whole height/weight scale of whether someone is the perfect weight or over/under. Every body is made and shaped differently, and while THEY might consider you overweight, I say you look completely normal and healthy. Plus, you can run. Can an overweight person do that? Me thinks not!

Plus, they were obviously animatrons with no actual human feelings or emotions and just programmed to display what the robots would research as "friendly" in their interaction with you, so they totally can't be trusted, anyway.

Congrats on the word count. And it's totally fine to slack one night, because Hey! Look! You wrote a blog post! Totally acceptable excuse. :)

Leauxra said...

Thanks Misty! And while I might admit to a little bit more padding than is normal for me, I certainly don't feel overweight. Those jerky robots!

Holy crap, how are you not on my blogroll? Fixing that now. I thought I did that ages ago...

Stephanie said...

Zombie kittens, I hope!

I laughed out loud through most of this post. I just love your voice... Yeah, I've gotten the "You're fat!" comment from my doctor. I loved her already, so I decided not to throttle her. cause...yeah...I KNOW that I'm fat. Duh.

Paula said...

Whenever I go to the Dr. I always ask the nurse to not tell me my weight. From what I hear ignorance is bliss.

Leauxra said...

Stephanie: Thank you thank you thank you! It makes me happy when I make people laugh.

I haven't decided 100% if the kitties become zombies, or just get torn apart by the zombies. It is a difficult decision, really.

Paula: Brilliant! Except, I won't get the discount on my insurance if.... aww, screw it. I really shouldn't be jumping through these hoops for $50 a year.

wagthedad said...

Wait. I know it sucks. It really sucks, and maybe I shouldn't say this, but you knew they were going to weigh you beforehand, right?

Just asking. And you know what? I'm overweight, too. I'm 6'3, weigh around 210 lbs, everyone tells me I need to GAIN weight, and my doctor says I need to lose 15 lbs.

So Fuck those BMI metrical people. Why in the hell are they using the metric system, anyway, when we're all still stuck with inches and pounds?

:)

The only important thing about this that you need to worry about is this:

Did they knock off the $300 you pay for health insurance?

If not, you can sue them for being discriminatory and for humiliating you secretly.

Totally. Bitches.

Jen said...

Pfft! When I was a personal trainer and competetive gymnast my BMI said 'overweight' even though I had about 4% body fat (suffice to say, THAT ship has fucking sailed). Muscle weighs more than fat so those tests are all whack. BTW, I. Want. That. HAT!

Leauxra said...

wagthedad: Yes, Wag. I knew they would weigh me. Please don't try to confuse me with your logic. I just didn't expect them to be so damned cheerful in telling me they thought I was fat.

What I DIDN'T know was that unless I lose some weight to fit in their chart, I don't get fifty of the dollars for my discount.

Jen: I fucking LOVE this hat. If I could get away with wearing it at work, I would. Damned thing looks like it is eating my head.

And I will be the first to admit I have a LITTLE padding, but it is well distributed, so fuck it. I was really just in it for the damn discount, and now they tell me I have to lose weight to get it all. Jerks.

wagthedad said...

how much do you have to lose? because you can strain 10 lbs out LIKE THAT. Water weight. Laxatives...hey, it's fifty dollars, man.

wagthedad said...

Oh, and keep on typing. you don't have to WRITE if you get stuck. You just have to type. OK? Forget that shit if it makes me sound pompous and shitty. I don't mean it that way. I've just done it, once, and if you just start typing, even if it's crap, something will come. Even if it doesn't, you still have a bunch of words you can add to your count.

Just look at my blog, for fuck's sake.

Leauxra said...

The problem, Wag, is that it isn't that easy. I have to actually go to a doctor, get a plan of action, consult a nutritionist, prove I am going through all their steps etc etc... all of which costs more than the $50 I am saving. So. Fuckitall.

And I think I can save my story if I add some extremely gory Gorey-esque pen and ink pictures. Like a children's book, only bloodier.

Steve Bailey said...

Ya... Im with you. I was upset the last time I was at the doctor and he called me fat! Though.... to be fair..... it could have been when I broke the chair I was sitting in.....

Leauxra said...

Steve Bailey: HAH. You made me laugh.

And seriously, I know how to lose weight. I really do. I just don't want to stop drinking beer.

Preschool Math Games For Kids said...

I'm enjoying comments and hope to see this kind of comments in the future too!!

Leauxra said...

Preschool Math Games For Kids: Honeslty, I was surprised to find out that the comments are the best part of blogging. I always thought I would be showering the world with my brilliance. Instead, I live for comments.

Keith said...

Comments are totally the bomb on blogs. SUAR is hysterical, and some of the comments are even better. I've learned to time eating carefully when reading that one. I took a tip out of your book, L, and started responding to comments. And got a better system for doing so. Much more fun now.

Wag, I'm about your height, and fluctuating between 225 and 230. There's still a bit of flub around the middle, especially at the sides, but I'm pretty lean otherwise. I doubt I could get down to 210 and be healthy. The BMI measurement doesn't work for athletic people, and the more athletic the more it doesn't work. I read about a doctor talking about BMI and going on about how it was a great tool blah blah blah. One of the people he tagged as grossly overweight was an NHL hockey player. Stopped thinking about it ever since.

lisa from insignificant at best said...

Ummm yeah, I hate people all the time for no particular reason. Sometimes I hate them just because they look like someone that I should hate. I'm judgemental like that.

Second of all I want to know how you grew a 1/4 of an inch, lost 2 inches in your waist from last year and yet still gained weight. LOL Did the 2 inches from your waist and the extra weight move to your feet?

Leauxra said...

Keith: I agree, and I feel kinda bad because I finally started getting lots and lots of comments, and then I stopped posting so I could write a book. I need to write something for the blog in the next day or two. Something not covered in zombie innards.

lisa from insignificant at best: I am not sure how it works, either. I tend to think their measurement methods may be a little unreliable. Or maybe I am finally all grown up and got boobs.

StephanieC said...

I fear that you won't see these comments as you are knee-deep in blog followers...

But that really made me laugh.

OF COURSE you are supposed to be happy. I mean, otherwise you could have depression, and they don't want to cover that shit!!

lol.

And you are still growing taller?! Good for you?

And congrats on the weight loss.

Just for the record - my Wii Fit is a lying fucking bastard.

Obese my ass. OH. Wait. See what I did there?

Leauxra said...

Oh Stephanie C, of COURSE I see your comments. And I have to agree. Wii Fits are assholes, and I think I "lost" the damned disk anyway, because I couldn't stand the thought of my Mii blowing up like a freaking balloon.

I am also impressed that I somehow grew taller. I wish I had known before I got my new license, as it still says I am five feet seven.

And holy crap. How the hell did that happen? New followers! Woot! I love you all!

jhl said...

Found you from Stephanie's blog. And I'm still laughing. Your writing voice is GREAT. Even if the insurance people are fuckers. :)

Leauxra said...

jhl: Thank you so very much! And they are. We are no longer on speaking terms. :)

Love said...

I laughed out loud again at this. :-) It reminds me of when you have to pass the "physical fitness," yearly horridness in elementary school. You know, can you touch your toes along the little ruler-edged scale, and they pinch you with the calipers (often inaccurately because they grab muscle in with the lipid layer) and you have to be weighed and measured and run the dreaded mile, which IS DREADED if you are a slightly chubby kid with athsma. Anyway, I enjoyed reading your perspective and finding that FINALLY someone has put words to the voice that all of us feel when we have to have a "health assessment."