Last September I had a physical check-up in an attempt to obtain a multiple-entry business visa to China, only to be told by the doctor that I was overweight and had high cholesterol. There must have been a mistake; I felt healthy, I walked every day, I played tennis and biked. After all, the doctor was chubbier than me, so why was she telling me I was fat! If she had said I was pleasantly plump, a bit on the heavy side, carrying a few extra kilos, I could have dealt with this. However, I wasn’t quite ready to accept that I was fat.
Yet, according to my doctor’s report, I weighed 63.7 kilos. The scales had to be mistaken. It is time to admit that I have never been skinny and always bordering on the slightly chunky side. Over the years, my weight has usually fluctuated somewhere between 53 and 58 Kilos. On a few occasions, it even approached 60, however; I can’t recall the needle swinging past 60.
I shared the doctor’s report with family and friends. They agreed with me; I wasn’t really fat. (Do we tell our friends they are fat?) Every time I visited my mother she encouraged me to step on her scales to check my weight. I found a dozen excuses for not weighing myself; her scales were old and inaccurate; I had a huge breakfast; I had too many clothes on, etc.
By early October, the days became shorter and the weather noticeably cooler, and more importantly my departure for China was just around the corner. In the past, long travels usually resulted in a few less kilos, so now being fat I was eager to get on the road and in desperate need of a weight-control trip.
A couple of delays later, the morning temperatures were nearing the freezing point, so shorts and gym pants were no longer an option. It was time to find some jeans or warm trousers. I drove home and went to my room and quickly dug out two pairs of jeans from a box of clothes stored in the closet. I made a point to select the ones I remembered as being quite comfortable. The next day, I struggled to fit into my favorite jeans, a pair that my mother purchased and had my cousin bring to me when I lived in Korea. After lying on the bed to zip up my jeans, it hit me that something was seriously wrong. (Did my mother wash my jeans in hot water causing them to shrink?) I headed straight to the local Walmart, waddled around the store in my skin-tight jeans and picked out the most expensive scales.
Finally, shortly before leaving for China, I gathered the courage to step on my brand new set of digital scales. I weighed in at a solid 64 kilos! The doctor’s scales were dead-on. My life style or lack of it would have to change. A few days later, I packed my jeans, which for years had helped me control my weight, and headed to the airport. My trip to China on a single-entry tourist visa would prove to be the start of a journey to a slimmer and healthier life.