How Tall Are You?
December 12, 2008
I went to my doc this week for my annual exam and after the joyless task of getting on the scale, she asked me if I knew how tall I was. “Shheesh.yes, of COURSE, I do.” I answered.
“Five Seven” I told her.
Then I went on to say “actually I used to be five seven and then about ten years ago I got miniaturized somehow and lost an inch. I think my kids must’ve beat me down in more ways than one so now I’m five six.
I’d call it at a little over five six.
Still almost five seven really.”
I admit this to her because docs have a way of getting the truth out of me that no other human being could pry from me, even by poking needles into my eyeballs.
The doctor’s form is filled out something like this:
Unprotected sex? Yes, but don’t tell my kids or I will be forced to lie to them.And in my defense, there’s no box to check to say how cute he was.
Experimented with recreational drugs? No.I mean, well, no. Yes. No. Can these things show up in your urine? ok, yes.My kids don’t know this either.
How often? Oh for criminy sakes does that really matter? I’m not running for president.
Have you ever smoked? I’m a fitness queen, not a saint!
And drinking? How much you ask? Can I substitute the words “times a week” for “drinks per week”? and does a globe of wine count as a glass even though it’s big enough for a goldfish?
I feel like scribbling in the margins “You want the truth Doc?
You can’t HANDLE the truth!”
My point is that I should’ve just insisted that I’m still five seven, no need to squabble about reality.
I simply prefer the model-esque ring of five seven.
She looked DOWN
at me now that I think about it
and said snidely”let’s just take a quick look.Hop on.”
Blindly I stepped back on the scale-who’s idea was this to make women get on a scale, the mini evil torture chamber of every well-stocked bathroom, to check your height? Some man I suppose.
Anyway I humor her and step on the gallows and she says “You’re five five.”
(dead silence from me)
Look I was fine with five six. I’d accepted it and moved on. I’d almost forgotten the sweet memory of five seven. But.
I am NOT five five.
Am I?
Yes my former doctor replied.
The rest of the exam was a blur of stirrups and speculums(I’ve never liked the sound of that word much either) while I tried not to cry on my paper gown.
Luckily none of you were on the road last Tuesday afternoon while returning from the doc’s because my mind lurched every time I passed a speed limit sign,
mocking me with those double digits that earlier this morning were innocent numbers.
55!
55!
MPH now stood for “My Pitiful Height.”
She might as well have told me I’d turned into a monkey. It was that hard to get my mind around.
Weight fluctuates. That I am used to. I’ve even remained calm during a twin pregnancy and the 50 weight gain that accompanied that. Up, down, up, no problem.
Lots of bodily parts and bodily functions fluctuate. Hair,moods, even skin and temperature.
But height, after your teens, does not go up then down then up. It is as predictable and unchanging as your birthday. I thought.
Here all along I’ve been thinking my teenage kids were getting taller but actually I’ve been getting shorter.
I expected my height to always be there for me and now it’s one inch closer to the ground. We will all end up on the ground someday anyway,I guess.(sigh)
An inch! Whoever said an inch doesn’t matter is either tall, lying or already well-endowed.
And later on, after I’d finished ruminating on why it wasn’t the other way around-my height staying the same and my weight going down instead of my height going down and my weight staying the same, it dawned on me why I was so upset.
I have always used the weight to height ratio calculation to gauge how much I should weigh. This rule says 100 pounds for five feet and five ell-bees for every inch above that.
So at my former height of five seven, I am at my ideal weight when I weigh 135 or under. This is doable with some diligence. Five six means I have to strive for 130 which is more of a magic number these days as opposed to 134 which I think is my set point.
The horrible truth of this situation is that at five five, I am only given …..one hundred …twenty….five pounds! I haven’t weighed 125 since, well, since before I did all those things that I had to check yes to on the doctor’s form.
I want to be able to weigh what a five seven woman gets to weigh.
Why? Because my body doesn’t know it’s five five. My body still thinks it’s five seven. Or is it really still five seven but my physical inches are just not showing up on the measurer-thingie. Like when we know we’ve lost weight from working out because our jeans feel loose but we still weigh the same.
Answer me this-if muscle weighs more than fat so you are really thinner then what is taller than inches when you get shorter?
(Maybe it’s brain cells when I go back and reread that last sentence)
So. I guess I will try to stand tall and hope my missing inch shows up eventually. Because at this rate, losing an inch a decade, I will look like Dr.Ruth by the time I’m her age.
And posture always has been underrated.
Holiday Fitness You’ll Log
December 12, 2008
Sitting here by my fireplace with exactly two weeks left before Christmas, I’ve finally broken through my holiday procrastination and have started making some big decisions, like “Do we get our son the Xbox 360 OR do we send him to college?” and “If I really hate sending out my annual Christmas card but love getting them, is it okay to send an email holiday greeting under the guise of going green even though I’m really just lazy?” and “Since I eat half of the yummy family fudge that I only make at Christmas for the very reason that I eat half of it, can I not make it and save everybody the two ell-bees?”
So I’m not baking this year. It’s too costly in ways beyond finances and I’ve decided that instead I’m giving everyone a homemade Christmas song. It is still in the half-baked zone but I will present it to you all as my holiday gift when I’m finished cookin’ it up.
For now, I want to present to you my
Holiday Fitness You’ll Log
This is a hypothetical journal of what I hope and imagine YOU’LL be doing this holiday season to stay on the fitness Good Boys & Girls List. Just for the record I will be checking it twice.
*YOU’LL decide now and make an inner pact with yourself to workout X number of days per week throughout the holiday season. Pick a number of workout days that are reasonable and stick with it. No matter how fat you feel or how hungover you are.
*YOU’LL put on your own life mask first in order to better rescue others. This means YOU’LL LET IT GO
and take de-stress breaks when you feel holiday panic as in“OMG!! I forgot to go online at 5:59am to get in a virtual line of 50,000 other (better) moms to enter the lottery to get one of the last 20 Tickle-Me-Elmo Dolls that I promised I’d get for little Suzy cross-my-heart-and-hope-to-die!” You’ll LET IT GO.
*YOU’LL start every party with the latest bar drink called a Mistletoe- it’s seltzer w/a splash of cranberry juice (or ACAI JUICE!!!!!)plus lime. I made this up but if you ask the bartender for it and then splain to him what is in it we could have a drink movement started (an un-drink movement rather) then move on to wine, then alternate mistletoe, wine, mistletoe…do I really need to splain why?
*YOU’LL control excess calorie consumption of low NCR (Nutrient to Calorie Ratio) foods by using the delay technique. These are the yummy things. Don’t say “No, I am not allowed to have that delicious yet forbidden delicacy that is only offered to me once every 365 days.” That’s just plain sad at Christmas. Say (to both yourself and your host) “I’ll have some a little later.” This is known as the Hoffinator Delay Technique. Then see if, five minutes later, the urge has passed. In 94 times out of 100, you don’t even remember what you passed up.
*YOU’LL get eight hours of sleep. Preferably nine.
*YOU’LL make sure your camera is charged, repaired and in your purse so that YOU’LL remember that wonderful moments sometimes happen in the church parking lot on Christmas Eve and
*YOU’LL also let someone take a picture for you so that you can jump in the shot and actually be in some of the pictures from 2009.
*YOU’LL laugh really hard at least once a day. Tickling may be required to make this happen.
*YOU’LL focus on something joyful very day, like your dog or your botox or by watching Forrest Gump or A Christmas Story since it is on 23 hours out of every day during Christmas. This is for a very good reason. It is true and funny. YOU’LL watch it and smile.
And there you have my Holiday Fitness You’ll Log.
Use it to fill your home (and your gym) with joy, your heart with love and your life with laughter.
HoHoHo
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