So to get into this Weight Management Program, I needed to talk to a counselor. About what, I had no clue. This was a diet right? A diet? And I needed to talk to a counselor. The government let me join the Army and I didn't have to talk to a counselor. They even let me play with guns...and hand grenades...and taught me how to use them. So for this diet, I needed a mental check up. This was going to be interesting.
Just so we are on the same page here, I am a fairly self-aware and open person. If you ask me a direct question, you are getting a direct answer. Do not pass go, do not collect $200. Go straight to the answer. So as I approached this counseling session, that was my mindset going in. Some people are not comfortable with this level of candor. Most counselors treat the world as if it had something to hide. THIS dance was going to be interesting.
I went back to the same building that I had gone to for the orientation. Everything that had to do with the Weight Management Program was in this building on the same floor. One whole floor dedicated to the science of turning the masses into smaller masses. One body at a time.
They sent me to a side office. Lot's of pictures. Very personal and comfortable. I wondered, was this the way the shrink liked it or was it set up this way on purpose? Great way to start here, paranoia. So in comes my weight counselor. I expected a jolly kind of person who could empathize with the whole weight thing (like Rosie O'Donnell or something). Instead I get someone looking more like an exercise Hitler from Fit-TV (apologies to all you 'PC' nazis out there). She was about 5 foot 2 inches tall and very wiry. She wore one of those digital watches that the triathlon runners wear...for all I knew she had just finished a race ten minutes ago. She had these lean muscular exercise arms where the veins are popping out all over. She wouldn't know an ounce of cellulite if it hit her right in the face. Seriously, what could she possibly need to know to evaluate me for this program? We were about as similar as a carrot stick and a side of beef.
She had a little questionnaire. I guess we were going to be working off of her sheet...the prescribed Shrink tool of the day. The questions started and I was as candid as always.
"How would you describe your eating habits?"
"My eating habits?", I asked. "Breakfast, lunch, dinner, snacks...same as most I guess."
"Do you binge eat?"
"Binge? You mean like in spurts? No. I eat pretty consistently."
"Do you eat food at times when others aren't around?"
"Sure. And also when they are around. I like food...I don't really care who is around."
For the most part, the questions seemed pretty normal. And then...
"Do you hide food in your home so you can eat it when others aren't looking?"
"You mean, like, behind furniture or something? It wouldn't last long, I have a dog. Seriously, look at me...I weigh 285 lbs...do you think I would be fooling anybody? I can just hear it now, 'gee whiz, Dick never eats but he seems to be increasing in size geometrically.' I'm sorry, maybe I am missing something here."
"Do you purge yourself after eating?"
"Purge? As in, 'throw up?' If I did, wouldn't I be a lot thinner? Is this why you asked the question about hiding food? Do you have people in this program who eat, vomit, and then dive behind the couch to eat where they can't be seen? And, wouldn't they want to vomit again after eating the hidden food? Especially if the dog licked it?"
"Well, it IS a problem for some..."
"Well, look at me. It obviously isn't MY problem."
"This diet is relatively expensive, how do you feel about that?"
I was starting to detect a pattern in the questions. People who sabotage their own efforts. We were obviously looking for people who could rationalize their way out of murder.
"How do I feel? Look, let's get something straight. I want to go on this diet. I am fat. Call it what it is. It's not overweight...overweight is when your pants are a little too tight. Fat is when you need expandable waist lines and your waist size is two times your pants length. I don't play the victim card. FAT didn't just happen to me. I have mirrors in my house. I don't fit well in any of them. I know how I got this way. I am very well aware of the amount of food I have plowed into this body. I realize the diet is expensive. I didn't get this big on Lite beer...I like the Brown Ales and they aren't cheap. I have even brewed some very high calorie stuff myself! I eat in restaurants and, as you can see, have never carried out a doggie-bag. I didn't wake up one morning, open the closet, and have fat just leap out and attack me. I know how I got this way because I can remember every stinking buffalo chicken wing and french fry that I have shoved into this pie-hole. I am responsible for how I look and I will be responsible for fixing it. Understand?"
She looked a little surprised at my outburst. It seemed to let a little tension out of the room though. She said, "look, I get it. I have to ask these questions to fill out the form."
She looked at the form and smiled and then looked at me and said in a whisper, "have you ever thought of...killing anyone?"
What? I leaned close to her and, with a squint in my eyes, whispered back, "nooo."
She continued this weird pattern, "have you ever thought of...hurting someone?"
Again I whispered, "yessss...but I would hope that the moral fabric of society would keep me from actually doing it."
She laughed. Finally she said, "is there anything secret that you want to tell me? Something you really need to say?"
"Why? Because I have been so secretive with you up to this point?"
She laughed again.
I guess I passed because they let me in the program. I felt very safe. I never felt for one moment that anyone in my program class would hurt or kill me. Some of them, however, did strike me as 'food hiders.' Just kidding.
Next step, the physical. Nothing like a good physical for a man over forty. If you are in that category, you get the joke.
Next: Finally, A Doctor's Approval
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