Fat Pills

Get those fat pills away from me,” my father said of the Smarties Grace had leftover from a start-of-school club booth.

Grace wasn’t moving fast enough, so Dad grabbed a handful and attempted to get rid of them himself.

“You don’t have any pockets!” he exclaimed to me.

Grace had a solution–“Fat Pills” stuffed in my neckband.

Rebekah with Smarties in neckband

A not-so-subtle message.

It’s intervention time, they’ve been saying. You need to gain some weight.

I know I do.

I wish I could.

I’ve been working at it–multiple meals a day, choosing more calorie-rich foods, etc.

It’s been work, keeping the pounds on.

I can hear what you’re saying: “Puh-lease. Give me what you’ve got.”

It puts me at a disconnect with a majority of the “diet-interested” population. Which, I guess, means that it’s good I’m not going to be working with the majority–or with the diet-interested, even.

Instead, I get to work with a population for whom weight loss is bad news–and my job will be to make sure it doesn’t happen.

It feels very “physician heal thyself” (or, “dietitian, stop your own weight loss”). But I’m proud to say that those fat pills must have paid off. I stepped on the scale last time I was at my sister’s (I don’t have a scale and generally only weigh myself once a month or less often)–and my weight is UP!

I know most of you don’t understand the excitement, but I’ll share it anyway!

Yippee!

Maybe my family will stop “stuffing” me now :-)

4 thoughts on “Fat Pills”

  1. And me. When you can see someone’s olecranon like I can see your’s… I would be happy to give you some more weight, unfortunately I don’t know how to healthfully make the transfer!

    Reply

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