Wednesday, March 14th, 2018
It’s been a while since I’ve checked my BMI. I know how it works: normal is, what, 18 to 25? 25 to 30 is overweight. 30 to 40, I think, is obese? Above that is morbidly obese.
While I was at a desk, sitting in my sedentary job, I took a look at myself, after having had a pretty nifty lunch at White Castle. By the way, I had two double cheeseburgers, two crab cake sliders, a small hash brown, a small shrimp nibblers, and coffee with five creams and three sugars. (As I wrote that out, I realized, “Damn. That is a lot.”)
I took a look at myself. I felt myself. (I’m not saying that’s what she said.)
For a while, I’ve started feeling a tad… unwell. It’s not quite obvious. It’s like feeling 10% unwell. Something is a little off right now, and it’s become a constant. It’s become chronic. Scary word. A lot of it has been mental. Being unfocused. Being lazy. Loss of libido. Feeling down. The physical stuff, I googled:
“What causes pain under the foot?”
“How long does it take for a scratch to heal?”
“Do I have diabetes?”
After doing two seemingly useless online Q&As for fun, I found out that I’m at a low to moderate risk for diabetes. In other words, I didn’t find out anything new, except that it takes a week for a scratch to heal, so I’m still good.
But do I have diabetes? I would have to go to a doctor to have that question answered. My hunch? I’m going to get there really soon if I don’t stop eating an entire bucket of Turkey Hill ice cream in two nights. I can’t help it though. It’s delicious. Unfortunately, “all natural chocolate & vanilla” doesn’t mean I could consume more obviously.
Then I thought of something, and went straight to a BMI calculator.
“What’s your height? : 5 feet, 9 inches”
“What’s your weight? : 205 pounds”
“Your BMI is … 30.3.”
I don’t know why I was a little surprised. For the past three years – three years ago can’t be the last time I checked my BMI – I was negligent, ignorant with the idea that my BMI was stuck at 25. I was 170 pounds then. But it’s weird that even after all the weight gain, and my seemingly sinking IQ, and the chronic pain in my right foot, and recent days where my mouth has gone dry, and even the sensations in my chest, it’s a single number that scares me the most.
Isn’t that weird?