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 café. 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.