Wednesday, August 24, 2005

Now it's time for the sad and the sick.

Seems some fat woman went to her doctor, he told her she's fat, and now she's offended. So she complained to the complained to the New Hampshire Board of Medicine. Sadly, the Board, which presumably is made up of medical professionals concerned for peoples' health, was just as offended as she and has asked the state Attorney General's office to investigate the doctor despite a committee recommendation that they close the matter with a simple letter to the doctor.

The woman has become diabetic and has developed gastroesophageal reflux and chest pains.

Lady--you're fat. You know it, too. When someone calls me fat it's kind of hard to get real worked up about it, because it's true. You need to take the same tack. The guy was just trying to help. And you're just looking for a payoff. To keep you in Twinkies for the remainder of your truncated life.

We were in Germany when my Army career finally ended due to a wrecked knee. We stayed for a while and I worked in the recreation department on a field station. In the winter, I was the Ski Guy. I did all of the maintenance and issued skis to the mostly civilian personnel. Back then ski bindings were adjusted using an algorhythm that depended on the skier's weight and boot sole length (leverage). I had one woman in particular who consistantly refused to tell me her weight. I was mystified. She always wore the black spandex pants that were fashionable then, so I could see every lump of cellulite from her waist down (shudder...). I knew she was fat. I knew just how fat she was. The only thing I wasn't certain of was her precise weight. She would take my chart and point to a setting. Well, I'm not the smartest guy in the world, but even I knew her weight once she did that. But she did it time after time as though she was guarding a secret--"Maybe nobody actually notices how fat I am through my cellulite-revealing pants". She'd probably complain about the doctor, too.

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