The Fat Lady Sings

I woke up the other day to realize that I was fat. I don't know how that happened. It just did. I suppose a number of things played into it. My metabolism slowed down. I became more of a desk jockey and less active. Middle age took over, you could say.

I’ve never been fat in my entire life. Ever. I didn’t know the meaning of the word “diet”. That was something for other people. I didn’t own a scale. Didn’t need one. I suppose the tip off should have been when I started buying bigger clothes, but getting fat wasn’t in my vocabulary. I found out it’s like needing new glasses. The changes creep up on you so slowly that by the time you realize something is happening, the damage is done. I used to see TV or movie actors gain weight as they aged and wondered how they could do that to themselves since their livelihood depended on them looking beautiful. Well, now I know.

Many of you might think I’ve been in denial. You’re probably right.

Some of you are chortling in glee that a formerly skinny person who could eat anything at all now knows how you feel about life. That’s ok. I understand your feeling of revenge. Enjoy it!

I had to look at how I came to this place where I could look in a mirror and not recognize the face staring back at me. Sure, I knew how it happened physically. I’m not dumb, you know. I understand the model of American obesity. The mechanics of it are simple. More food + less exercise = who is that in the mirror. But how did this thing happen to me? What went wrong with my thinking, my emotions, my respect for myself that I would allow this to happen? What has become of the core me, the essence of me? Where did I go?

I sold myself out to the American Dream.

You know how it’s supposed to be. You work hard to keep getting promotion after promotion, to earn more money to buy all the things you see other people buying. That is the mark of success, after all. The nice home. The nice car. All that stuff you have to hire someone else to dust.

What I have discovered was that I ended up working at a job that I didn’t believe in, doing something that had no value according to my beliefs and ideals. It was a job I did to earn more money to fit in with someone else’s idea of success. I was miserable. You might think that I ate as a way to numb my pain. That wasn’t it, really. What I found is that I hated being there so much that I was actually cutting out during the day. I would have trouble thinking, concentrating, focusing. So I thought that maybe I was tired. Maybe if I could just have some sugar that it would give me enough energy to stay focused. Poor man’s cocaine, I suppose. Only it never gave me a buzz or a rush or made me think my mind was sharp and brilliant. It only made me fat.

I needed an intervention. I needed my friends and loved ones to say stop. I needed to see that I was killing myself. I needed someone to say to me that I should get out of that job, get out of that lifestyle and I should find some sanity.

So here is my gift to you. Go now and look in your mirror. If that face looking back at you reflects the person you wanted to become, then take some time to feel a surge of gratitude for all the things you have in life. But if you feel some discord while looking at that stranger’s face, then it’s time, my friend, to do a sanity check. Are you living your dream, or someone else’s? Are you in love with your life, or just hanging out until it’s all over? Are you enjoying the adventure or feeling kidnapped by life? Be honest. Be yourself. Live consciously. Make the changes that bring you back into alignment with who you really are. Find the joy of living. Adore the world around you. Sing, and laugh, and play with abandon. Be a child again. Be you.

It’s not too late. I know.