This year, I remembered to sign up for the health screenings organized by HP to help us get ready for the annual benefits enrollment. In general, I was really pleased with the results. I got desirable numbers for the most part: my good cholesterol (LDL) is good, my bad cholesterol (HDL) is where it needs to be, and so are my triglycerides. I don’t have to worry about any conditions associated with having a waist circumference bigger than 35, and my blood pressure is groovy.
The worst part of the whole process was getting on the scale, something I hadn’t done for I forget how many months. It could even be years. I told the lady not to even think about sharing with me the horrible number returned by the scale, and I had the next lady cross out the offending figure before I let her explain what all the numbers meant. I did, however, allow her to tell me about my BMI, which revealed that, for my height and weight, I’m overweight.
Even though I know I’m obviously not a size 2 (or 4 or 6), it was still a little bit of a shock. Nobody wants to hear from some stranger that they are fat and having to shut their mouth on top of it. Surprisingly enough, I didn’t feel like slicing my wrists or holding a meeting with Ben & Jerry once I got home. Why? I couldn’t figure it out. And then, suddenly, as I poured myself a nice glass of Malbec, it dawned on me: I am not overweight, I’m just short!
- Basque singing at the Basque Market on Friday, October 25
- Consulate of Mexico in Boise to honor Pete Cenarrusa